Carry You With Me
by Kateniss
Summary: As the ATF circle Samcro, Jax and Isabelle must reconcile what having a committed relationship in the life really means. Sequel to "Carry Your Heart".
1. Showcase

**A/N-I'm really sorry I couldn't get this up sooner...I know I'd originally said this past weekend, but having to buy a new car and computer problems put a damper on my writing time. I really hope it was worth the wait...**

* * *

The butterflies were bouncing around in Isabelle's stomach as she stepped into the San Francisco Art Institute's gallery showcase. She'd been counting down the days until her work would finally be displayed in a real gallery and now that it was here, she thought she might throw up all over her stilettos. There had been no way to anticipate the anxiousness she would feel knowing that her blood, sweat, and tears, so to speak, were going to be on displayed for all her classmates and anyone else that showed up tonight to see. And critique. And criticize. And laugh at. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew her work wouldn't be in the end of the year showcase tonight if it sucked. She knew she was talented and her work was worthy of showing; her professors all semester had told her as much and then some. But now that she was faced with the reality of a real audience, she wanted to bolt.

She wavered at the gallery's entrance, teetering dangerously on her stilettos as she contemplated the repercussions of kicking them off and sprinting back to Jax's truck. No one would really notice the crazy woman in the black dress running through the parking lot, right? Just when she was preparing to backpedal, a warm hand rested securely on the small of her back to gently propel her forward.

"Where you think you're goin', huh?" Jax's voice whispered huskily in her ear. "You think I'm gonna let ya miss your own party?"

Her head turned just enough to meet his eyes and a rush of heat washed over her. In less than three seconds, he'd managed to turn her nervous butterflies into something raw and primal with just a few whispers into her ear. As he observed her with a mischievous glint in his gleaming blue eyes, she suddenly wished she could sprint back to his truck, but pull him along with her.

"Get your ass movin', Iz," he muttered in her ear. "You know I wanna see this tonight, but I also wanna get you naked tonight too, so..."

She had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep from busting out in laughter. This was not exactly the place or time for dirty talk, but she didn't doubt his words for a second. And now, there was nothing to be nervous or anxious about anymore. With Jax standing next to her, she had no reason to worry and no reason to be scared.

"Alright, baby," she whispered back. "I guess I'm gonna have to hold you to that, right?"

"Oh," he shot back. "Don't you worry, babe; I've got some serious plans for you tonight. But for now, let's go see your work. Gemma and Clay should already be here and they're probably wondering where the hell we are."

There wasn't much point in reminding him that her dad was also going to be in attendance tonight. Even though he'd been out of rehab for about two months, the relationship between Jax and her father was all but non-existent. They acknowledged each other when they were in the same room together but that was about it. She didn't know exactly what she'd been expecting to happen, but at some point, they were going to have to sit down at have that conversation Jax had promised they'd have on Christmas. Maybe they'd never really get along, but at least she could hope that they'd be able to have a civil conversation every once and awhile.

Thankfully, neither one had said a bad word about the other in front of her. She didn't think she'd be able to handle listening to them complain and bad mouth each other like that...even though it didn't take much to figure out the vitriol that would surely come from both of them. At the very least, it just showed her that Jax was once again putting her best interests first and that her dad had enough self-awareness not to be a hypocrite by telling her how to live her life.

She felt Jax's warm hand gently kneading her forward and then they were weaving around the crowd to get to her display. A few of her classmates said hello on their way and she felt Jax's proud gaze on her the whole time. The love and support she found in his eyes was enough. It was enough to know that if all else failed and everything went up in smoke around them, he would still be right next to her.

"You nervous, Iz?" Jax leaned down to whisper in her ear as they approached her display.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I have some serious butterflies right now...but they're the good kind, you know?"

He grinned down at her and gave her forehead a quick peck. "I'm so fuckin' proud of you, babe; I don't even know where to start."

Biting down on her lip, she led him over to her display and waved to Gemma and Clay, who were standing a few feet away from one of her paintings. There was already a small crowd around her display and the butterflies were playing hopscotch on her stomach again. Was this good or bad? Were her paintings good or did they suck? Oh God, her advisor for her studio practice, Dr. Rosemary Jacobs, was headed right for them and she gripped Jax's arm a little more tightly for support.

"Isabelle," Dr. Jacobs called out, her thinly veiled French accent floating along with her. "Doesn't your display look fantastic?"

The woman always ran so hot and cold with her, it was difficult to tell if she was being facetious or if she was actually serious. Dr. Jacobs just about knocked her sideways when she reached out with her bony arms to pull her into a tight embrace.

"I told you this lighting would do your work justice," Dr. Jacobs told her simply and then stepped back to appraise the man standing next to her.

It was at this moment she was more than willing to take the attention off of her and lay some of it on Jax. Dressed in a simple white button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a clean pair of jeans, Jax fit in just fine with the rest of the 'civilians'. He and Clay had respectfully left their leather cuts in their trucks-and their bikes parked at T-M-mostly, she figured, so that the attention could stay on her and not on the bikers invading Swell Gallery. And just like all the other women, and some of the men, in the gallery, Dr. Jacobs regarded him appreciatively.

"Well," she stated simply. "This must be the young man I've heard so much about, Isabelle."

She nodded quickly, feeling a blush creep across her cheeks, and gestured to Jax, who cast her a wolfish grin before extending his hand in greeting.

"Dr. Jacobs, this is Jax Teller," she introduced them quickly. "Jax, Dr. Jacobs."

"Nice to finally meet you, too," Jax started, winking at Isabelle as he spoke. "Isabelle's told me nothin' but good things about you."

Dr. Jacobs, clearly charmed by his effort, placed a hand gingerly over her heart. "Well, I'd hope so."

With a sincere smile, Dr. Jacobs' hand found Isabelle's arm and turned to her. "I'll leave you to enjoy the evening; I just wanted to stop by and say hello. See you on Monday, bright and early, Isabelle."

As her advisor disappeared into the crowd, she felt like she could finally exhale. That woman had a way of twisting her insides around and pulling them out through her nostrils. Every time Dr. Jacobs entered her university-issued studio space, she had trouble swallow the bile that threatened to spew all over her latest project. Despite her willowy stature, Dr. Jacobs never failed to intimidate her with her eerily silent, detached, and cold appraisal of each stroke. Given the fact that she'd only really tried painting seriously at the start of the semester and with no real professional training, she lived in fear every day that Dr. Jacobs would tell her she wasn't cutting it. Somehow, she'd also allowed herself to be talked into summer classes and studio work to hurry along through the program, as Dr. Jacobs said and right about now, she was really wishing she'd opted for the time off instead.

"She didn't seem so scary," Jax was whispering in her ear. "Guess that must mean you're doin' somethin' right, Iz."

She just blew out a deep breath in reply and squeezed his hand. In a few moments, Gemma and Clay were right next to them and they were standing directly in front of her display. After Gemma pulled her into a quick hug and whispered her congratulations, she stepped away so they could get a closer look at her paintings. All three had been set up with the proper lighting and organization she'd asked for-she'd been obsessing about the arrangement for the last month when she'd first found out her work had been chosen for the semester showcase. As she got a little bit closer, it was apparent that Dr. Jacobs had been correct. The lighting actually was fantastic.

Jax stepped even closer until he was close enough to touch her paintings. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat a few times and his hands sunk deep into his pockets as he took in each stroke and each dash of color. It was fitting that the first one he stood in front of was the one inspired by him.

"What do you think?" she murmured to him, taking her place beside him.

His eyebrows rose and his gaze flicked back to her for a second before returning back to the painting in front of him. "What do I think, Iz? I think it's absolutely perfect...I mean, I don't really understand what I'm lookin' at here but I know it's somethin' special."

"Well," she laughed as his left hand closed over her right one. "It's abstract, so it's not really supposed to make much sense at first glance."

"So abstract is..."

"It's not supposed to represent anything tangible...anything you can see or touch, you know? It's more about how the colors and shapes make you feel."

Jax chewed on his bottom lip in thought and she could see the wheels in his head turning. "So if lookin' at this makes me feel like I love you, that's right on track, right?"

She just laughed and leaned into his shoulder. "Considering I painted this with you in mind, I'd say that's about right."

"Really?" He tilted his head to get a better look at her.

"Yeah, I guess you could say this is how I feel about you, Jax. It's Dr. Jacobs' favorite one I worked on this semester, actually."

"I can see why," he murmured lowly as his thumb gently rubbed over her hand.

They stood hand in hand in front of her painting for what seemed like an hour and the memory of painting it washed over her again. She felt it every time she saw it and it was the same feeling that had propelled her paint brush in the first place. Twirls and dashes of blue covered the entire canvas and for a moment, she'd completely lost herself in the process of putting all her feelings out for an audience. She'd just closed her eyes and allowed all the emotions that encompassed what Jax was to her to materialize on the plain canvas. It wasn't until she'd finally gotten the courage to show Dr. Jacobs that she'd even slightly begun to realize it was worth showing to anyone else.

"I'm so fuckin' proud of you, Iz," Jax whispered to her.

They stood in front of the painting for a few more moments until a throat cleared behind them. The second she turned around, the second the happiness left her body.

"Hello, Isabelle," her dad called out to them hoarsely.

"Hey, Dad," she replied, choosing not to acknowledge how stiff Jax had become beside her.

"Jax," her dad nodded to him.

"Mr. Martin," was Jax's cold response.

After a moment of awkward silence between them, Jax turned back to her and pecked her lightly on the cheek. "I'm gonna go find Gemma and Clay, alright? I'll see you in a few minutes."

She knew exactly what he was doing: he was avoiding having to spend any more time with her father than necessary and he was also giving them some space to talk. After Jax respectfully stepped away, her nerves started to get the better of her again. Even though they were dutifully attending family counseling sessions together, there were still miles to go before she would ever really feel comfortable in her dad's presence again. Some days, it felt like that was never going to happen and others, she felt like maybe they could actually have a relationship again. The fact that he was here tonight-and that she'd invited him-was a huge step for them both.

"This is all a little overwhelming, isn't it?" Her dad called out to her with a nervous chuckle as he cautiously stepped over the spot Jax had left vacant.

"A little bit, yeah," she nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Well, Isabelle, I have to say I didn't realize how talented you were," he started again slowly. "I mean...I knew you were, but I never thought it was quite like...this."

His gaze flickered over the painting her and Jax had just been looking at and suddenly, a rush of heat flooded her cheeks. Having her dad see something so personal and so intimate, especially since it was inspired by the boyfriend he clearly didn't approve of, made her want to crawl under a nearby table and hide until it was all over.

"Um, thanks," she barely managed to squeak out. She doubted he even heard her above the murmur of the crowd.

"This is breathtaking work, sweetheart. You should be really proud of yourself...I know I am."

Isabelle inhaled deeply and felt herself wavering again; only this time, it was her own father she wanted to run from. The feelings-the hurt, betrayal, disappointment, fear, all of it-was still too raw for her to wrap her head around what he'd just said. Minimal progress in family counseling did not equal immediate understanding and forgiveness. They were still working up to that and suddenly, she wished that he hadn't decided to show up...but then again, she knew she'd feel even worse if he'd ditched her tonight. Maybe she would've been better off not inviting him in the first place.

"I really am proud of you, Isabelle," her dad murmured next to her as his eyes studied her three paintings in front of them.

"Thanks."

That was really the most she could offer him right now and he seemed to sense it. In a moment of desperation, her eyes scanned through the crowd, looking for her own foolproof source of relief. When she finally found him, her mouth twisted downward when she observed Jax and Clay huddled near a wall in deep conversation. Just from the deep lines creasing Jax's forehead, it was obvious that something was up. As if he could feel her eyes on him, Jax's searing blue gaze found hers. His mouth curved up at the corners the second they made eye contact and almost immediately, dipped back down. He knew her well enough to read her emotions from across the room and before she knew it, he quickly excused himself from Clay was weaving around the crowd to get back to her.

She really, really loved him.

* * *

Something was up. And Jax had a feeling that something had everything to do with Isabelle's dad, who was still standing next to her. That sharp distress in her eyes registered with him immediately and then he'd almost completely forgotten about the meeting Laroy had called with the club. Laroy had purposefully avoided the reason for the meeting, but his gut was telling him it had something to do with that fucker, Salazar, who'd gone off the rails the last few months.

Salazar had been just as inconsistent in his productivity as he'd been during their first disastrous drop-off-and it wasn't like Alveraz was even giving him tasks that were all that difficult. Laroy had told Jax himself that their interactions with Salazar were more or less the same too, so he knew it wasn't just Samcro caught in this mess. The excuses ran from anywhere to his mom was in the hospital to they'd been up all night partying. At this point, the fucker was better off not making excuses anymore. One of these days, Salazar was going to cross the wrong person and then it would be all over for him-he was gleefully waiting that day. Still, he knew he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy every second of getting to report all the ineptitude that Alvarez had hitched his wagon to. Jesus, the man was nuts if he didn't regret patching Salazar and his boys into the Mayans and he was more than annoyed that all the other organizations involved with the Mayans had to clean up their mess.

Still, right now, Isabelle was his number one priority. This was her night. And he wasn't kidding earlier when he said he had plans for her tonight.

He was back by her side within moments and warily eyed her father, who had shifted nervously from side to side at his reappearance. Good. Let the motherfucker squirm. While he understood why Isabelle needed to invite him tonight, he still resented every second he had to spend in the man's presence. Samuel Martin had yet to earn his respect and it was anyone's guess when that would actually happen. Some time in rehab and a few counseling sessions with his daughter did not a changed man make.

Wrapping an arm around her waist and protectively drawing his old lady to his hip, he leaned down to place a careful kiss on the side of her head.

"Well," Mr. Martin said quietly from the other side of Isabelle. "I should leave you to enjoy the rest of your night. This was fantastic, sweetheart. Thank you for inviting me tonight; you have no idea how much that means."

To her credit, Isabelle plastered on a fake smile and nodded to him. "Okay, Dad. Thanks for coming."

Jax felt his lips curl up into a snarl when her dad reached out to gently squeeze her shoulder. If they weren't in a public place...

As he turned on his heel to head back towards the entrance, Mr. Martin reached his hand out for him to shake. Frozen in shock, Jax blinked back at him before thrusting out his hand.

"Well," Isabelle murmured to him as her eyes followed her dad out of the gallery. "That went okay, right?"

"You sure, Iz? You looked a little uncomfortable before."

She just shrugged and rested her head against his shoulder. "I think I'll be ready for you to take me home soon..."

He didn't miss a beat. "Babe, you read my mind."

After they'd said their goodbyes to Gemma and Clay-he really was grateful they'd made the drive for this and he knew Isabelle was just as grateful-they were back on the highway and headed for Charming. Isabelle was playing with the control on his radio and he couldn't stop his eyes from lifting to the ceiling when she settled on a country station.

"C'mon, darlin'," he pleaded. "You can't expect me to let you listen to this shit in my truck."

Her bottom lip jutted out in a cute pout and he had the sudden urge to lean over and kiss it right off.

"Just this once, baby?"

Oh shit. She was well aware he had more than a hard time saying no to her and tonight, especially, was no exception. Especially when she pouted and batted those pretty blue eyes at him. There was no point in fighting. He was a goner a long, long time ago anyways. Might as well suck it up and let his old lady listen to country if she wanted.

"One song, Iz. That's all I can handle."

"Well," she grinned victoriously at him. "That's perfect because I love this song."

"Great," he muttered under his breath. "Just great."

"What? I thought you liked Carrie Underwood?"

He shot her a lop-sided smirk. "I never said I liked her-I said she was hot. Big difference, babe."

She swatted a hand out to him, not offended at all. "Whatever. That's beside the point. I don't listen to country as much as you think I do, anyways-I just happen to like this song. Is that alright with you?"

"Chill out, Iz," he playfully held his hands up off the steering wheel, making her cry out in protest. "Alright, alright. What's the name of this song anyways?"

"Mmm...I think it's called 'See You Again'. It's kinda sad when you listen to the words-you know, the couple breaks up, but she still knows that someday they'll find each other again. I mean, how often does that really happen anyways?"

"What do you mean?" he frowned.

"I don't know...how often do couples that break up actually get back together?"

"Why are we talkin' about this, Iz?"

This conversation was making him a little uneasy and it just made what was in his left pocket feel that much heavier.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I can turn it if you want. It's just a song, Jax."

His right arm shot out to change the station, settling on something less threatening and easier on his ears. Suddenly, their current course through the streets of Charming alarmed him. What if he was jumping the gun? What if she said no...to all of it? He'd planned everything out so meticulously, but now, he found himself wishing he'd waited a little longer. Tonight had just seemed like the perfect night. Everything was finally falling into place for them. She had one semester at SFAI in and from everything he'd observed at the showcase tonight, she had the respect of both her professors and her peers. He was finally starting to feel more established within the ranks of the club, especially given that almost every dealing with Salazar had been passed to him...he was more than willing to deal with that asshole and he enjoyed doing it too.

And even though he was suddenly feeling the onslaught of cold feet, he pulled up to the driveway and put his truck in park.

"Um, Jax," Isabelle's voice floated through the silence in the cab. "What are you doing?"

He almost wanted to laugh. She was probably sitting there wondering why the hell they were parked in the driveway of some strange house. Little did she know that he'd closed on the house just a few days before and had literally just picked up the keys that afternoon; all the signed paperwork was in his glove box just in case he needed to show her. With a deep breath, in spite of his initial misgivings, he decided the only thing he could do now was proceed with his initial plans. After all, it would be a little difficult to explain what they were doing here in this driveway in the first place.

"I, uh," he scratched the back of his head nervously as he spoke. "I just bought this house."

Her eyes just about fell out of her head and he wanted to kick himself in the balls. Was it too much to ask to say one thing eloquently? Jesus, there was no way he was going to survive the rest of this night if he couldn't get his shit together. Why the fuck was he so nervous all of a sudden? This was Isabelle. This was it for him. He loved her and wanted her with him for as long as he could have her.

"You...bought it?" Her eyes glimmered with something he couldn't quite place and that realization made him want to roll his window down and vomit onto the pavement he'd just purchased.

"Uh, yeah...you wanna go inside? I just got the keys today."

A hesitant smile broke out across her face and he had to take that as a positive sign. Maybe he wouldn't be regretting this after all. Maybe he'd actually done the right thing here. Maybe...

When they were finally inside, she quickly scrambled around from room to room and the excitement coming off of her was enough to calm his nerves a little. She ducked her head into each room and was opening and closing drawers in the main bathroom when she suddenly stopped and stepped out into the hallway to face him.

"So you just...bought a house, huh?"

He leaned against the wall closest to the living room and shrugged.

"Why didn't you tell me, Jax?"

He swallowed tightly, having anticipated this question and her reaction. He figured he knew her well enough by now to know that she'd be more than a little perturbed that he'd gone ahead and made a decision like this without at least discussing it with her first. But to be fair, it was his money and it was fucking time for him to grow up already. Besides, he figured as soon as she heard him out, she'd be on board too. At least he hoped.

"I wanted to surprise you, Iz. Do you like it?"

Her blue eyes sparkled as she edged closer to him. "I love it, Jax...I have to say, I didn't realize you had enough money to afford something like this."

It was right on the tip of his tongue to reply that the spoils of club business made this all possible, but knew it would decidedly hamper the mood.

"I've been saving for a while," he modified. "And I've been living in the clubhouse since I was 18...and now that I've got you, I guess I figured it was time to move on. You know, be an adult and all that shit."

"Ah," she nodded. "Finally decided it was time to act like a big kid?"

"You know it, babe," he smirked back at her, reaching out to pull her hip in closer. "Listen, Iz, I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was doin' all this, but I really did wanna surprise you. This house is for you just as much as it is for me."

Her forehead creased into a frown and he knew he had to talk fast.

"Look, we practically live together already-I can't remember the last time I slept at the clubhouse when you weren't with me and we're always at your apartment anyways. I figured if we're gonna live together, we should do it right; do it for real, you know? And...I saw this house and it was perfect, Iz. I knew I had to buy it for you."

There was something else he'd known he had to buy for her too, which was quickly burning a hole through his pocket, but his resolve on that issue was wearing thin.

"Okay..." she replied slowly as she took it all in. "What about the lease on my apartment? I just signed it at the beginning of February..."

Shit. Fuck. Shit. He hadn't really thought about that. He'd just stupidly assumed everything would work itself out. Rookie mistake.

"Well," he backpedalled quickly. "It doesn't have to be right away, babe. We can figure everything out and when all's said and done, I want you to live here with me."

A soft smile tugged at her lips and then she was leaning forward to press a gentle kiss onto his lips.

"Okay," she murmured softly. "Just so you know, you're really lucky I love this house so much...can you imagine if I didn't?"

Shit. He hadn't thought of that either.

"I really should be more upset with you," she whispered against his lips. "But I guess I can't be mad about something so sweet...I really love you, Jax."

"I love you too, babe," he whispered back hoarsely. "I'm glad you like it."

"I am, too," she laughed. "Now, if it's alright with you, I'm gonna go check out the rest of our house."

As she turned back to head towards the master bedroom, Jax had the sinking feeling that if he continued on with his original plan, it would be too much too soon. Shit, he hadn't even given her his crow yet and here he was, buying her a house and ready to give her a ring? Digging his hand in his left pocket, he fingered the velvet box and squeezed his eyes shut. He was going about this all the wrong way...totally and completely about to jump the gun.

While he didn't doubt what her answer would be, he still doubted whether the time was right for this next step. They'd only been together for about six months now and while he loved her more than he loved himself, he was beginning to see that there was nothing wrong with waiting a little longer. He had the rest of his life to be married to her...what was so bad about taking things a little bit slower and enjoying just being the way they were now?

And even worse, there was still something about asking her to marry him without talking to her dad first that didn't sit well with him. If he really wanted to do all of this the right way, that absolutely had to come first. He would just have to figure out how to be in the same room as the man without wanting to strangle the motherfucker on sight first.

His birthday was in a few weeks and Isabelle wouldn't turn 22 until July. They were still really young to be getting engaged, especially since they weren't in a situation like Opie and Donna had been. Hell, he loved his god-daughter, but he couldn't imagine being responsible for an infant. He wouldn't know the first thing to do with one...God help Ellie if anyone left her alone with him for too long. But even though there was no doubt in his mind that he would figure it out and that it would just come naturally for Isabelle, that didn't mean he wanted to be a father anytime soon if he could help it.

So...he was going to wait a little bit longer. At least until they were settled in the new house and everything was squared away with the lease on her apartment. And after he finally got his crow somewhere on that beautiful body. There was an order for how things were supposed to go, at least in his mind, and he felt like things were a little disorganized right now. There was no need to rush. They had all the time in the world.

* * *

Agent Jordan rocked back on his heels as he bored a hole into the picture in his hand of Isabelle Martin. Things were starting to go really well for her. She'd just had a gallery showcase at her school and from what he'd read, was already on the fast-track to being one of the most sought after up and coming artists in the Bay area. Her schedule was a little too hectic, in his opinion, and he'd seen firsthand how stressed she seemed at times when he'd tailed her the last few weeks.

He just wished he could talk to her and introduce himself. That was all he really wanted. Maybe she'd want to talk to him too. Maybe he could buy her a coffee or something and they could just talk. Maybe if they could just connect on some level-

"Jordan!" Stahl burst through the doors, waving some papers in her hands as she charged towards him. "Finally! A fucking breakthrough!"

"What?"

She thrust the papers at him with a triumphant grin. "Looks like there's about to be some drama with the Calaveras patch-over. Good ol' Salazar's about to finally come through for us."

"You mean that dumb asshole..."

"Messed up enough to give us the opening we've been looking for," Stahl finished for him with a nod. "The Niners are meeting with Samcro tomorrow to discuss their little problem."

"Thank fucking God," he exhaled.

The last four months had been taxing on them both. After weeks upon weeks of surveillance, Jordan had almost begun to lose hope that they would ever really get anywhere with this investigation. Usually, when trailing an active crime organization, and in Samcro's case, a very active one, it never took this long to get something. While they had anticipated the figurative moat that surrounded Samcro's castle, neither had ever thought it would take this long to crack. Jordan had thought maybe two months, tops, and they'd have something. These criminals were smart and knew how to cover their tracks better than any organization he'd encountered in his career. They were a formidable enemy and one that needed to be brought down swiftly.

Salazar was an easy target and they'd kept a close on him too, just biding their time until he pissed Samcro off enough to cause some serious problems. Sure, they'd found a few things out about Salazar that could send him away for awhile and he and his boys weren't the fish they were trying to catch.

"So," Stahl continued with a sly grin. "You know what this means, right, Jordan?"

He didn't even need to verbalize a response. Yes, he knew exactly what this meant. It was time to finally put some pressure on Samcro. It was time to finally take action and break them apart by the very seams that held them together. It was time to finally come face to face with Isabelle Martin.

* * *

**A/N-Once again, I put a little bit more foreshadowing in this than I'd originally intended but I'm happy with the results. I know it was a lot of set-up, but it was important to establish where everything is at. In case it wasn't clear, this starts up about four-ish months after "Carry Your Heart" ended and right now, Isabelle's got a semester of art school in. The next chapter will kick the plot into high gear and I'm really excited to get going on it.**

**In case anyone's wondering, the song mentioned in this chapter directly relates to the title of this story. I guess that's what I meant about foreshadowing, huh? Anyways, the next one should be up soon and I'm still definitely planning on at least one more one-shot about them in high school, I can't make any promises right now about when that'll be up because I'd like to get a few chapters of this story posted first. So, let me know what you thought-your feedback is always amazing!**


	2. Sit-Down

"So," Gemma started as she handed Jax a cup of steaming hot coffee. "Explain to me why that ring isn't on her finger yet."

Jax sighed and tugged a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. The answer wasn't as simple as either of them would've liked and he decided to buy himself a little more time by taking a gulp of coffee, despite the fact that the scalding liquid scorched through his tongue on contact.

"Well, Jackson?"

Shit, she had her hands on her hips and was tapping her toe on the floor and everything. Of course, it didn't matter to her at all that it was early and he needed to leave for the sit-down with Laroy and the Niners soon. What Gemma wanted, Gemma got. Jesus Christ.

"It just wasn't the right time, Ma, alright?" he shrugged, quickly taking another drink of coffee even though it wasn't anywhere near cool enough yet. Caffeine was all that mattered to him at this point. That and getting his bullheaded mother off his back.

"Come on, Jax," she stared back at him pointedly. "You can do better than that. What's really goin' on, hmm?"

"I don't know...I guess I just didn't want to overwhelm her last night. It was pretty big-for both of us-without adding that too."

On some level, he was almost relieved that he hadn't proposed last night. The delay in plans was for the best because it bought them more time to just be...them for a little while longer. She'd more or less agreed to move in with him last night, so he figured he was better off just choosing his battles wisely. It wasn't like that ring was going to be his safe in his dorm forever. When things got settled a little more, particularly in their new house, he would come up with a better plan to put a ring on it.

"Well, please tell me you showed her the house...right?"

"Yes, Ma," he exhaled tiredly. "I showed her the house."

"And she liked it?"

The hope in his mother's voice made him smile. "She loved it."

He heard Gemma exhale with relief next to him as he took another swig of coffee. If he was being completely honest with himself, he knew he'd dodged a bullet the size of fucking Texas last night. There were so many ways that could've gone south. Jesus, what if she hadn't been able to get past the fact that he'd virtually went behind her back and bought a house? Fuck...what if she'd hated the house? He hadn't even really looked that hard...he'd literally rode past it on his bike one day and saw the for sale sign. His next step had been typical-he'd asked his mother what to do. The reality was that he didn't know the first thing about mortgages, interest rates, inspections, or any of the other shit that went into buying a house. Gemma had happily given him sound advice, went with him to the bank, and had proudly watched him sign the paperwork on his first house.

But she'd been even more willing to go ring shopping with him. That had taken a little more time and they'd both been much more meticulous in going from store to store until he'd exhausted all his options. Still, he knew they'd chosen the perfect one for Isabelle. While his mother had wisely encouraged him to stay a little more within his budget, given that he was in the middle of purchasing a house, he knew he had to either go big or go home. And he'd went big. Real big. Even he knew that two carats was a lot...and that was really saying something. Set in platinum gold, the round diamond was surrounded by smaller ones that wrapped all the way around the band. It was beautiful and classy. Just like his old lady.

"So when are you two movin' in, then?" Gemma's voice pulled him out of his revelry.

"Ah," he rubbed the back of his head in thought. "Not really sure yet. Iz still has the lease on her apartment to figure out."

"Well, she can always sublet, right? Shouldn't be too hard...even if there's a few months of overlap."

He'd never admit it to her, but she'd actually just made him feel a whole lot better about the whole situation. Maybe everything would work itself out after all. That wasn't too much to ask, especially not when shit had the potential to implode. Still though, he knew, with a heavy heart, that things wouldn't feel quite right until that ring was finally on her finger. It was unfinished business that needed to be taken care of...he just needed to figure out the right way to go about it. Throwing a house and a ring at her in the same night as her first gallery showcase was not the right way. He just needed a little more time to formulate a new, improved plan of action.

"Everything's gonna work out, baby," Gemma's hand was on his shoulder now, squeezing gently in reassurance. "You just gotta be patient."

He blew out a deep breath. Patience. Right. The urge to have everything he wanted...now...was a battle that had been waging inside himself since he'd been a stupid, horny high school kid. It was difficult to suppress that need, that drive, to self-indulge. Patience may be a virtue, but it was one he had never been very good at exercising.

Thankfully, a quick glance at the clock above Gemma's head told him it was time to hit the road. This was not a meeting they could afford to be running late for; business with the Niners was just too damn important and he was practically chomping at the bit to find out what kind of mess that douchebag Salazar had gotten himself into. With a quick goodbye peck on Gemma's cheek, he sauntered out towards his bike with a clear head. It was just like Gemma had told him; everything would work itself out, especially this shit with the Niners and the Calaveras. He had a feeling it was going to be very entertaining to watch too.

They arrived at the Niner owned and operated bar right on the dot and as Clay stepped inside, he couldn't hide his surprise when Piney gestured for him to follow after Clay. That was normally the VP's place and the only way he could reconcile this new development was the fact that all the club's dealings with Salazar had virtually been through him. So, he reasoned, it was only fair that he act as second in command in this meeting. At least that's what he had to tell himself. When they sat down at the table where Laroy was waiting for them, no one was surprised when the gang leader jumped right to the matter at hand.

"We got a problem, boys," Laroy leaned forward on his elbows as he spoke. "Alvarez's boy is dealin' and his shit is cuttin' into my shit."

Jax cursed under his breath and cast a glance at Clay to his left, who was a running a hand wearily over his grizzled face. If the Niners were pissed enough, they could cut off their business with more than just the Mayans because Samcro was in too deep with them to pull all their deals completely. They depended way too much on the income from their long-standing business with Alvarez to bail altogether. Still, losing their relationship with the Niners could stand to be just as detrimental. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place.

"So," Clay bit out gruffly. "What are we doin' here, then?"

"I just wanted to give you a heads up," Laroy shrugged. "Shit between us has always been fine, but that doesn't mean I can afford to keep it up if your business deals interfere with my shit too."

"We can't control what Salazar does or doesn't do, Laroy," Jax interjected quickly, hoping to diffuse the situation with as little heat as possible. He could already feel the steam pouring off of Clay in waves and he knew he needed to salvage what was left of their relationship with the Niners quickly and efficiently.

"That's why I'm givin' you a heads up," Laroy turned to him now and seemed visibly grateful to not have to deal with Clay, whose lips had curled up into a dangerous snarl. "We've never had any problems before now and I know all this shit with the Mayans ain't your fault. If you cut ties with Alvarez, we don't got a problem anymore."

Jax shook his head and lit up a cigarette before speaking again, mulling over what to do next. "You know we can't do that, man. I'm just as pissed about this as you are-that dumbfuck has caused too many problems as it is, but we gotta keep the cash flow goin'. We're in the same fucked up position as you're in right now and if there was a way we could stay afloat without the Mayans, we'd do it. But right now, it's just not possible."

Laroy's eyes darkened and he leaned back into the booth, creaking the plastic cushions to cut in through the silence that had taken over the meeting. "Then we got nothing more to say."

"What if we handle the problem? Get Salazar the fuck out? Then there's no problem for any of us anymore."

Laroy eyed him carefully, searching for some sign of dishonesty for a few painfully silent moments. "How you gonna do that?"

Jax looked briefly to Clay, who just nodded in response, and then to Piney, who followed Clay's lead. So, it looked like this was going to be on him then. Go big or go home, right?

"I doubt Alvarez is going to be happy when he finds out his fucking lap dog has really gone off the rails this time. Even if he doesn't care too much about the fact that Salazar's dealin', he definitely won't like that he did it behind his back to make a profit Alvarez wouldn't know about."

"So," Laroy stared back at him incredulously. "You're just gonna bring it to Alvarez?"

"Look, man," Jax shot back quickly. "Alvarez is just as smart as the rest of us. He knows when shit's worth hangin' on to and when it's not. He'll cut ties with Salazar so fast the fucker won't know what hit him. If the Calaveras lose their patch, they can't afford to stay in NoCal and it'll be business as usual then."

Laroy leaned back against the booth in thought and then abruptly nodded. "Alright. Fair enough."

With that, the meeting was over almost as quickly as it'd started. Clay was on his pre-pay with Alvarez the second they stepped foot out of the bar to set up the next sit-down of the day. With a quick nod from his president, he knew the arrangements had been made and then they were on their way to the Mayans' clubhouse. The entire ride over, Jax felt himself sweating bullets. Although it was logical and smart, the plan he'd devised literally from the seat of his pants could easily blow up in his face. And if it did, the repercussions, both seen and unforeseen, wouldn't be pretty.

"You sure this is gonna work, son?" Clay clapped a hand on his shoulder as they closed in on the Mayan's doorway.

"They can't afford to lose our business either, Clay," he reasoned immediately. "I don't think Alvarez is stupid enough to hang on, do you?"

Clay just grinned and clamped down on his cigar. "Like you read my mind..."

Over all, the sit-down with Alvarez went better than he could've hoped for. It didn't take much rationalizing for the Mayan leader to clearly understand the long-reaching effects a continued relationship with Salazar could mean for his club. It wasn't like there was much to consider anyways...the solution seemed like an obvious one to him, but then again, he also understood the betrayal Alvarez had to be feeling. No one had forced him to patch in the Calaveras and take Salazar under his wing and he'd literally gotten nothing in return but trouble.

The real fun began, though, when Alvarez called Salazar to get his ass over to their clubhouse. Like the good little lapdog he was, Salazar came to heel in less than fifteen minutes, giving the rest of them ample time to take a breather and grab a drink.

During that quick opening, Jax attempted to discreetly pull his prepay out of his pocket to give his old lady a call. It wasn't like he was checking up on her or anything-ever since she'd had to cut back on her hours at T-M, he missed seeing her during the day, especially having lunch with her at their picnic table. Besides, Opie was trying and failing at covertly texting Donna from underneath the table, so why couldn't he at least give it a go?

When Isabelle's voicemail chimed happily back at him to leave a message, he snapped the phone shut with a frown. She didn't have class today, even though that drill sergeant, Dr. Jacobs, had talked her into summer classes, and she wasn't working at T-M right now...so, where was she? A shot of cold air sprinted down his arms and he just couldn't shake the uneasiness he felt. There had to be a good explanation-she was helping Donna with the baby or they were shopping or something...or maybe she was Becca...or maybe she was just in the shower and would call him right back.

Still, it wasn't like her to not tell him what was going on, even if it was something as simple as watching Ellie while Donna ran errands. They always checked in with each other-it was something he'd stressed to her early on when she'd decided to stay in Charming for good. He'd reiterated multiple times that he needed her to keep him updated not because he was some crazy stalker boyfriend, but because he needed to know she was safe. Now that their relationship had been out in the open for months, he'd started adopting the same policy Opie had with Donna: let me know what's going on or I'll send a prospect after you. He was a little surprised that Opie didn't have a prospect at his house around the clock when he wasn't there. And contrary to Donna and Isabelle's belief that they were 'acting like cavemen', he was positive both understood where this admittedly overprotectiveness was coming from.

"Hey, bro," Opie appeared in front of him suddenly, his face drawn back in worried lines. "Do you know if Don and Isabelle had any plans right now?"

"No, why?" He really didn't want to hear his best friend's reply.

Opie just shrugged nonchalantly and it was obvious he was just trying to downplay this like nothing was up. "I just got a weird text from Donna is all...something just seems off."

Jax nodded slowly, that cold sinking feeling in his gut enveloping into something deeper than plain worry. "I couldn't get ahold of Iz just now...her phone went right to voicemail."

"Huh."

Opie ran a hand soberly over his beard and Jax knew exactly what he was thinking. While there could easily be a perfectly good explanation, instinct usually won out in the end and instinct was telling them something wasn't right.

Before they had a chance to get much further, Salazar swung through the clubhouse doors and headed right for the table where his charter president was sitting. As Jax's clinging unease dissipated, a new feeling washed over him: pure, unadulterated anticipation. There would be no greater feeling of vindication than the one he would get from watching Salazar get his ass handed to him. This had been a long time coming and Jax just hoped he'd get back to the table in time to snag a front row seat.

As Salazar passed them with a cigarette dangling from his lips, his smug, slightly dilated beady eyes froze on him for a little too long. Even though he didn't want to give the surprise away, Jax couldn't stop the knowing, albeit evil, smirk that tugged across his lips. Salazar's expression darkened with confusion, but he just pressed forward until he was dropping in the chair across from Alvarez.

Jax and Opie practically tripped over each other trying to get back to the table before all the commotion started.

"What's this about?" Salazar huffed as he took a long drag from his cigarette.

Alvarez only hesitated to cast a sideways glance at Clay, who nodded with approval. Salazar didn't seem to miss this nonverbal communication and his black eyes darted back and forth between them.

"You been dealin' behind my back?" Alvarez bit out in Salazar's direction.

Jax had to fight the urge to rub his hands together in juvenile glee. This was just too damn good...where the fuck was the popcorn when you needed it?

Salazar swallowed tightly once. And then again. And then again. At some point, he must have realized he needed to supply an answer and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"I...uh..."

"That's not the answer I'm lookin' for, ese," Alvarez shot back, his thick accent enunciating every syllable. "I'll ask you again: you been dealin' behind my back?"

Salazar squeezed his eyes shut tightly and blew out a deep breath. At least the fucker had enough sense to know that it was over. Shocker.

"You don't understand...I was waitin' 'til the deal was all settled to make sure it was all good. I didn't wanna take the chance that-"

"That what?" Alvarez cut in sharply. "That I'd find out what you were doin' behind my fuckin' back?"

With that, Alvarez lunged forward until his hands were closing around the edges of his former mentee's cut. He abruptly loosened his grip with one hand to snap his fingers above his head. When someone handed him a knife, Alvarez leaned closer with the blade extended dangerously close to Salazar's eye.

"Get the fuck out of my clubhouse," the Mayan leader exhaled venomously before slicing through the patch in the upper left-hand side of Salazar's cut. Then he flung the patch onto the floor below them and roughly shoved Salazar back against his chair.

Silence permeated the air for a few long moments, save for Salazar's heavy, stunted breathing. A beat later, he knocked his chair back as he furiously rose to his feet. With his chest heaving violently, Salazar's black eyes rounded the length of the table until they rested firmly on Jax's victoriously smug smirk. Bottles smashed in his wake and chairs upended as Salazar lunged for him with both hands reared for attack.

Jax's back slammed into the floor before he had time to even register what was happening as Salazar's fist smashed square in his jaw. Shattering pain splintered through the left side of his face and then instinct took over as both hands came up to block the next attack. With Opie yanking Salazar back, Jax took the opportunity to wind up and finally hit that fucker right in the face.

Salazar spit out a tooth, narrowly missing the front of Jax's shoes. "Fuck you, motherfucker."

"You think this is my fault, asshole?" Jax shot back hotly and jammed a pointed finger back at him, even though he was being tightly restrained by both Chibs and Juice. "You did this-not me. This is on all you, _ese_."

Salazar's eyes narrowed into menacingly dark slits. "You been waitin' for this since day fucking one. You better watch your back if you know what's good for you, _bro_."

"Oh really?" Jax laughed bitterly, shoving himself free so he could inch up right in front of Salazar's face. "Bring it, asshole. You got nothin' to threaten me with and you fuckin' know it."

Salazar just snarled and before he had a chance to reply, his ass was unceremoniously tossed out of the clubhouse and into the dirt where he belonged. Good fucking riddance, Jax thought to himself bitterly as he rubbed his throbbing jaw. At least all this shit had essentially resolved itself and now, Salazar was officially out of their hair. He'd been waiting for this moment for more than six months and now that it was finally here, the vindication was sweeter than he'd ultimately anticipated.

And even though he'd denied it, he knew that he had just as much to do with Salazar's exit from the Mayan clubhouse as the asshole himself. All he could attribute that accomplishment to was patience. It was just like Gemma had told him this morning...everything had a way of working itself out; all it took was patience. He'd bided his time and waited for the opportune moment-and, essentially, for Salazar to fuck up beyond all hope of redemption. He saw an opportunity and he took it.

At the very least, he could rest a little easier tonight knowing that Samcro's interactions with Salazar were finally over. Buzzing in his back pocket jerked him from his thoughts and his first thought was that it must be Isabelle calling him back. But when he saw his mother's name on the caller id, that sinking feeling of dread slid its way back down his spine.

"Yeah, Ma?" he answered quickly, catching Opie's gaze as he spoke.

"Baby, where're you guys right now?" His mother's haggard voice sounded over the phone and he had to blow out a deep breath in preparation for whatever was coming next.

"Dealin' with some club shit-why?"

"If you guys can get back anytime soon," Gemma replied anxiously. "You'd better head over to the precinct-ATF picked up Isabelle, Donna, and Becca about twenty minutes ago. I just got the call from Wayne."

For a second, he thought he hadn't heard her correctly. But then, he remembered the moment right before all the shit with Salazar went down, when he'd gotten Isabelle's voicemail and known that something wasn't right. She hadn't been able to answer because she'd probably been sitting in a car with an ATF agent at that exact moment.

All he could sputter in response was: "What?"

Opie was suddenly standing right next to him as Gemma continued.

"Wayne didn't know what the ATF want, but I think it's pretty obvious considering the fact that I'm still sitting here at T-M."

Yeah, it didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on here. They'd known the ATF was in town for the last few months, but up until now, the elusive agents had yet to be seen or heard from-not like he was complaining. It wasn't a coincidence that the first time Samcro had any sort of trouble with another club, the ATF swooped in and grabbed three old ladies, especially ones who'd never been in this position before. He knew exactly how these self-righteous pricks operated and the thought of Isabelle trapped in a room with just a bright light and an overzealous, aggressive ATF agent was enough to make his blood boil. His old lady was smart, but federal agents were trained, ruthless interrogators who would play on any angle they could to get what they wanted. They could talk circles around Isabelle for hours if they really felt like it...fuck if he was going to let that happen to her.

Jesus Christ, what else was going to happen today?

* * *

Ellie gurgled happily from her bouncy chair as Isabelle cooed over her, gently rocking the chair while Donna looked on proudly. Isabelle hadn't needed any convincing to come keep Donna and Ellie company on her day off and they were currently seated at the table, sipping on iced tea.

"So he really bought you a house?" Donna asked slowly, like she was still trying to wrap her head around all the details.

"Yeah," Isabelle exhaled with a grin back at her friend. "I mean, I'm still not really sure how I feel about him doing all that without telling me about it, but I guess that's just his way of being romantic."

"It is sorta romantic," Donna mused. "In a rough and tumble, awkward, biker guy sorta way."

"Right," she laughed and turned her attention back to Ellie, who was fussing a little in her chair.

"You know," Donna called back over to her. "I'm not gonna lie...when you called this morning, I kinda thought you were going to tell me Jax proposed."

Isabelle's laugh caught in her throat and she choked on it for a few moments before regaining her composure. "What? Come on, Don...I don't think we're quite there yet, you know?"

"I don't know," Donna shrugged from her side of the table. "You guys are really happy together, aren't you?"

"Well, sure."

Donna cocked an eyebrow at her. "And you're moving in together?"

"Yep."

"And you know he's the one...I mean, you did spend literally one day in LA before hightailing it back to Charming, didn't you?"

She grinned softly back at her. "Yeah, I did."

"And don't tell me you don't want cute little blonde-haired, blue-eyed babies with him. I won't believe it."

Isabelle didn't know how to formulate a response to that one...of course it was true. It was just that admitting it right now seemed a little soon. If she was being completely honest with herself, moving in together felt a little soon too, but Jax had been right-they did spend every night together. Whether they were at his dorm in the clubhouse or her apartment, it was very rare that she went to sleep at night without Jax beside her. There was definitely something to be said about the idea of sharing a true space with Jax, of mingling all their belongings together, of them coming back to the home they shared together at night, maybe she'd even attempt cooking dinner every once and awhile. Wow, she was thinking...a lot of things right now.

"Hello? Isabelle?" Donna playfully waved a hand in front of her face. "You there? You looked like you were off in dreamland there for a second."

"Sorry," Isabelle bit her lip in thought and leaned over Ellie to rock her a little more in her chair. Anything to get her attention off of where her train of thought had been headed.

"So when are you guys gonna move in then?" Donna graciously shifted the subject. "You still have the lease on your apartment though, right?"

"I'm gonna call my landlord...it's not like we're in any hurry though. Jax told me there was no rush."

Donna bit back the knowing grin. "Sure, he did. That's because that boy will bend over backwards to make you happy. Don't give me that look-you know it's true. He's crazy about you, Isabelle and he'll wait as long as you want, months, years, whatever you want; I'm sure he'll do it."

"You sure some of those pregnancy hormones aren't still swimming around in there 'cause you're sounding pretty crazy right now."

Luckily, Donna just laughed and took another sip from her mug. "There's nothing wrong with planning a future with him, you know."

"I know," she replied simply, hoping they could change the subject to something else. "Anyways, I still think it's a little crazy that he just bought a house like that. I mean, what's wrong with my apartment, you know? It's just a couple blocks away from the clubhouse, the rent's cheap, and it's actually pretty nice. Why couldn't he just move into my apartment with me?"

Donna shot her a pointed look. "Come on, Isabelle. We're talking about alpha male-caveman shit here-trust me, I know...my husband's cut from the exact same cloth. One thing you just gotta be able to accept is that he's always going to need to be the provider. That's just the way it is. It doesn't matter how tight things are or what kind of money you're bringing in on your own, he's always gonna have to be the man, you know?"

"Caveman bullshit," Isabelle just shook her head in disbelief. "You're right, though...wow, you're really right about that."

"'Course I am," Donna winked back at her. "That's what I'm here for, hun."

Even though, deep down, she knew Jax's overprotectiveness was coming from a good place, it was still annoying as hell sometimes. Within the first few weeks of her officially coming back to Charming, Jax had outfitted her with a prepay and a knife and pepper spray to tuck away in her purse in case of emergencies. She understood the danger-at least she thought she did-but it was still difficult to reconcile when or why she would ever need a knife or pepper spray in the first place.

Isabelle looked at her friend and was overwhelmingly grateful to have such an understanding, intuitive ally. "Have I told you lately how glad I am you came into my life?"

"Um...no, might as well get going on that."

They were laughing happily at the table when a loud knock on the door stopped them short. With a questioning frown, Donna rose from her chair and headed towards the front door. When Isabelle heard the low voices coming from the front of the house, her eyes widened when she heard the acronym "ATF". She quickly swooped down and gathered Ellie against her chest and quickly headed to the door.

Donna was standing stiffly with the door half-open, her arm protectively keeping it from opening all the way.

"Let me see your badges," she heard Donna request quietly.

She now had a clearer view of their visitors as she took her place next to Donna at the door. A man and a woman, both dressed in dark business-like suits stood at the threshold and she immediately noticed that the man's eyes never wavered from her gaze as he dug into his suit pocket for his badge. Standing just over six feet tall with cropped dark hair, he was clearly well-built underneath his suit jacket. Clean shaven and put together, he couldn't have been more than 30. And he might have been attractive if his dark, hooded gaze didn't feel so threatening and swarmy. He looked like he wanted to eat her for dinner.

When Jax looked at her that way, like he wanted to consume her completely, it made her want to be devoured, to be carried away. But this was different. This made her want to cower behind Donna and never leave until this sinister-looking man finally decided to leave them alone. Maybe then this ominous feeling of foreboding would leave her alone too. The second their eyes had locked, an overwhelming sense of doom had slid down her spine like a cold knife.

Quickly regaining her composure, her eyes darted to the female agent, who was currently appraising her with curious black eyes. The woman's long blonde hair and pretty features should have made her seem approachable, but it was the way she stood in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest that sent her instincts into overdrive. With her bony frame and ill-fitting pant suit, the woman gave off the air of faux professionalism, like she was trying to keep up the appearance of a polished federal agent, but not quite sure how to maintain it. Of course, it didn't help that the woman held herself stiffly, almost numbly, and showed no signs of remorse for her and Donna's obvious agitation.

"I'm sorry," the woman started again. "We haven't introduced ourselves properly. My name is Special Agent June Stahl and this is my partner, Special Agent Matthew Jordan."

"What do you want?" Donna was saying now and Isabelle protectively held Ellie a little closer to her.

Agent Stahl stared at them for a moment with her lips pursed tightly before finally speaking. It was obvious which one of them was really in charge here. "We'd like to bring you two down to the precinct to answer a few questions."

Isabelle's eyes narrowed and she felt Donna stiffen next to her.

"Can't you ask us your questions here? Why do we have to go to the precinct?" Isabelle inquired quickly and she didn't like the way Agent Jordan's lips twitched at her question.

"We'd like to keep this as quick and painless as possible," Agent Jordan started slowly, his deep voice inciting a cold shudder down her spine. "But, it might take awhile, given the nature of our questions, so it will be better for everyone if you come with us to the precinct."

"So, I'm just supposed to pack up my baby and bring her to a police station because it will be better for everyone?" Donna hitched a hand rebelliously on her hip as she stared the two agents down.

"Mrs. Winston," Agent Stahl pressed impatiently. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Now, we have some questions about both of your significant others' involvement with Samcro and I would really like to get the answers we're looking for so we can leave you to return the rest of your day. Is that alright with you or are we going to have a problem, Mrs. Winston?"

Donna didn't hesitate to pounce. "I don't appreciate you coming to my house and talking to me and my friend this way. If you think we're going to give you any information, you've got another thing coming to you."

Isabelle exhaled slowly, trying her best to stay calm for them both and put her free hand on Donna's shoulder. "Maybe we should just do what they're asking, Don. Just get it over with."

The reassuring smile she'd plastered on her for Donna's sake slipped right off when she saw the glint in Agent Jordan's dark eyes. In only a few minutes, the man had the ability to turn her inside out, and not in a good way.

After a few seconds of contemplation, Donna seemed to realize what she already knew: that resistance was futile. It was already frightening clear that these two agents weren't going to stop until they got what they came here for. And even though they wouldn't be getting anything useful from either her or Donna, the little she remembered from her pre-law classes taught her that it was better just to comply peacefully. They clearly wanted to send Jax, Opie, and the rest of Samcro a message by bringing them in today for questioning and from what she could tell, there wasn't much they could do it about it right now.

It wasn't until she found herself alone in a cramped interrogation room with Agent Jordan leering at her that she started to get pissed. She'd been sitting here for about ten minutes already and she'd heard murmurings through the door that Becca had been brought in as well. Jesus, they were really pulling out all the stops here.

Under no circumstances did she want to be alone with this man any longer than necessary and she suddenly envied Donna, who was more than likely being questioned by Agent Stahl at that very moment. At least she might have been able to go toe to toe with Agent Stahl a little easier because she didn't inherently intimidate her the way the agent currently sitting across from her did.

"Isabelle..." Agent Jordan started carefully. "Is it alright if I call you Isabelle?"

She nodded slowly, hesitant to speak to him unless absolutely necessary.

"Thank you," he grinned back at her gratefully and she felt herself frowning back at him. "Please, call me Matt. Agent Jordan is way too formal, don't you think?"

When she just stared impassively in his general direction, he frowned and leaned forward on his elbows. "So, it looks like you just finished your first semester at the San Francisco Art Institute. And had a showcase already too. That's quite an accomplishment...you must be really proud."

She'd had enough of this already.

"Can we just cut to the chase, huh?" she snapped back at him. "I'm not stupid and I know that since you didn't arrest me, you can't keep me here against my will. So ask your questions, so I can leave, please."

She hadn't meant for her tone to betray all the swirling emotions running through her, but there was nothing she could do about it now. When Agent Jordan's lips tightened into a thin line, she wondered which part of what she'd just said had set him off more. If he'd really done his research, he would've known what she'd studied at Stanford and so, her basic knowledge of the law couldn't have been a surprise. Still, the longer he stared back at her with that unfathomable expression, the more she wanted to squirm in her chair.

"Alright," Agent Jordan replied simply, his lips twitching again. "I'm sure you have a pretty good idea what I need to ask you."

"Yes," she nodded.

"You and Jax Teller have been together for..." he flipped through a few pages of the file in front of him as he spoke. "About six months, right?"

He glanced up at her with inquisitive eyes while she nodded her quiet response.

"In those six months, have you seen or heard anything related to illegal activity? Anything related to the illegal purchase and transfer of firearms?"

She frowned at the direct question. Didn't seasoned interrogators spend more time working up to asking those questions? She'd been expecting a little more resistance on his part, maybe even sly interrogation tactics to get her to trust him, but he hadn't wasted any time with that. What was really going on here? Unless, she thought as cold dread sunk into her stomach, unless...he had other reasons for wanting to be alone in this room with her. Someone was watching them, right? They were being videotaped right now and someone, anyone was keeping on eye of what was happening...weren't they?

Knowing she needed to mask her distress, she cleared her throat to answer. "No, Agent Jordan, I haven't."

His eyes darkened slightly and she wondered if it had something to do with the fact that she'd ignored his request to call him by his first name. That was too personal, too intimate, and she didn't want to have anything to do with him.

"Nothing that comes to mind?" He pressed again.

"Nope."

He abruptly slapped the file closed and leaned forward on his elbows. "You know why we're here, right? You know we're here to investigate Samcro? And by extension, Jax, too?" He waited for her to nod before continuing. "It's only a matter of time before we find what we're looking for, Isabelle."

She froze in her seat, knowing exactly where he was going with this, but not wanting to hear it.

"Sooner or later," he went on softly, almost tenderly and it just made her shudder. "He's going to end up in jail and then where will you be? Have you ever thought about that?"

Isabelle couldn't even conjure a reply and all she could do was sit quietly in her chair, willing this all to be over.

"He's already been arrested three times. The fourth could happen at anytime...you know that, don't you? At any given moment, we could find something or he could make a mistake and get caught and then he'll be gone, just like that."

Her blood ran cold that this latest piece of information, something Jax had never told her. This was all too much to process at once...being brought to the precinct, this interrogation, Agent Jordan's penetrating, frightening eyes, and now this. Her head was barely above water as it was and if this went on for too much longer, she worried it might drown her.

Agent Jordan's head cocked to the side as he silently observed her. "He never told you that, did he? I can only imagine what else he hasn't told you, what else he's done that he doesn't want you to know."

She now understood what was really going on here: Agent Jordan had set out to twist her head around until she couldn't see straight. And fuck, it was working.

"I don't even want to talk about what must go on at their clubhouse when you're not there-how many women he must have behind your back. They all do it, Isabelle, and trust me, Jax isn't any different."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at his current line of questioning and he seemed to realize his error. There was a line and he'd just crossed that invisible line. There was one thing she was absolutely certain of and that was that Jax, for all his flaws, loved her enough to never do that to her. She was done with this conversation.

"I'm sorry," Agent Jordan backpedalled quickly, holding his hands up in the air in defense. "I'm sorry...I'm just trying to help you. That's all this. Really...I'm sure you don't believe me, but I really want to help you."

"How are you planning on doing that?" She shot back hotly.

Agent Jordan shrugged simply. "You may not have been around them long enough to see it yet, but their lives are just an endless cycle. They commit crimes, get caught, go to jail, get out, and then do it all over again. Sometimes there are months in between, sometimes years, but it always happens. The cycle never ends. Jax is just getting in deeper with Samcro; sooner or later, that's going to catch up to him."

She felt her breath catch in her throat as his words sank deep.

"If you stay with him, Isabelle, you're just going to get caught up in it too. And the longer you stay, the more responsibility you have. Look at Donna...what would happen to her if Opie went to jail? What would she do? How would she make ends meet?"

"We would help her...I would help her. I know she'd do the same for me," Isabelle shook her head furiously, trying to block out everything he was telling her.

"Maybe. But that's not the kind of life anyone aspires to. No one deserves that. And someday, Isabelle, you might have kids with Jax and even if he marries you, even if you have some help around you, you'll still be alone at the end of the day."

It was like he'd just taken everything she hadn't really allowed herself to hope for yet-a life, a marriage, and children with Jax-and twisted it into something evil and ugly. Her eyes burned from the impact and all she wanted to do was get out of this room. In that instant, she hated Agent Jordan. The fear and intimidation he'd instilled in her crept away, leaving only frustration and disbelief in their wake. She had the sudden urge to leap to her feet and punch that slimy, creepy smile off of Agent Jordan's face. Too bad something like that would get her arrested...then she'd have to actually stay here in this precinct.

"Why do you care so much?" Isabelle glared back at him.

"I told you," he shrugged again and she felt that overwhelming sense of foreboding slip inside and twist violently. "I just want to help you."

* * *

**A/N-I think it's safe to say that it's hit the fan. Or at least, it's starting to and this is only really the beginning. The next chapter will deal with the aftermath of both 'sit-downs' and Jax has some serious explaining to do. **

**Thank you for being patient with me. These updates aren't coming quite as quickly as I would like and I'll try to get the next one up a little sooner. Thanks to everyone who reviewed/alerted/favorited this...your feedback is always so amazing and I can't wait to here all your theories after this last one. **


	3. Setting Things Straight

Isabelle really needed to get the hell out of this precinct. They'd already been here for almost an hour and even though Jax had texted her that he, Opie, and Juice were on their way, she was growing more and more impatient with each second that ticked by. Luckily, Donna had handed Ellie off to her when Agent Asshole finally released her from his clutches. Ellie had been fussing a little and with Agent Bitch still harassing Donna, Isabelle was more than willing to have the distraction.

Her mind was still reeling from the mind-fuck she'd been assaulted with and it would take some time before she'd be able to sort through where the lies and the truths ended and began. Instinctively, she already knew all the answers to her questions; she just needed Jax to fill in the blanks for her. Still, it was taking all that remained of her willpower not to shake with anger...everything that had happened today just made her want to kick over and throw around anything she could get her hands on.

When Ellie gurgled a little next to her shoulder, Isabelle calmly rubbed her back, willing both of them to settle down. She squeezed her eyes shut and when she opened them again, Jax, Opie, and Juice were pushing through the precinct's doors and heading straight for her. She stood with Ellie still in her arms and catching Opie's alarmed face, gesturing with her head towards the hallway.

"Donna's in a room down there," Isabelle told him quietly. "One of the agents is still talking to her."

Opie made a move for the hallway, but Jax gripped his arm to hold him in place.

"Let's find Unser first," Jax instructed lowly. "Find out what's goin' on here and then we can raise hell if we need to, alright?"

When Opie promptly turned on his heel to go searching for the chief of police, Jax's tired eyes followed him for only a moment before flicking his gaze directly to her. His hand found her shoulder and she immediately wanted to just melt into him. Even though they had some serious discussing to do later, and even though she was pissed as hell about what had went down here, there was nothing she wanted more than to just feel his arms around her to make everything go away.

"Babe," he whispered to her hoarsely. "You okay?"

"We're going back to the clubhouse right away, right?"

He frowned at her direct dismissal of his question, but nodded anyways. "Yeah."

"Then can we just talk about it when we get there?"

Jax nodded solemnly, his eyes never leaving hers and she just started bouncing Ellie up and down around the cramped waiting area. She didn't stop her zombie-like ministrations even when Opie reappeared with Chief Unser in tow and she did everything in her power to keep her attention focused on the baby in her arms while the four men exchanged hushed, angry murmurs. When she finally allowed herself to glance in their general direction, she found Jax's worried gaze rested firmly on her, clearly alarmed by her pacing.

It wasn't until Jax ushered her inside the clubhouse that she finally felt herself relax a little more. At least now the heaviness Agent Asshole had set on her shoulders felt a little lighter, even if she still had some sorting out to do. She could feel the start of a complete freak-out right along the edges of her mind and she just needed to push it down a little longer. Once they were alone in Jax's dorm, then she release some of this pent-up frustration. Until then, she had to keep up the appearance that everything was fine, that she wasn't rattled by the morning she'd just had.

Clay was already seated at a table near the bar and waved over his head for them to get closer as Donna and Becca took a seat across from him. For probably the tenth time today, a cold shiver crawled down her spine and she somehow forced herself to fall into the empty seat next to Donna in spite of her urge to cut and run. Clay was watching all three of them with sober, weary eyes and while there was no suspicion on the surface, there was only one reason why they were all currently seated at this table. She cast a quick sideways glance over to Donna, who just pressed a reassuring smile on her face. Judging by the tight lines drawn on her face, Donna looked just as nervous as she felt.

And even though Jax moved to stand protectively behind her chair, she felt totally and completely alone.

"First of all, ladies," Clay began gruffly, clamping his teeth around his cigar as he spoke. "I have to apologize for everything you must've went through today at the precinct. These ATF assholes think they have something here in Charming and even though we all know they don't, they seem to be pretty persistent, don't you think?"

He grinned back at them, like he actually expected them to see the humor in the situation and Isabelle could only stare back.

"Now, nobody here actually believes that any of you ladies had anything to say to those ATF bastards today," Clay told them carefully and Isabelle sensed some serious manipulation was headed their way. "But it's been awhile since any old ladies have been brought in the way you were today. I just wanted to make sure that you all understand our policies about loyalty and discretion."

Both Donna and Becca nodded quickly and Isabelle immediately followed suit, not wanting to look even slightly suspicious by hesitating. Clay's dark eyes appraised the three of them for a moment, taking plenty of time to study each of their expressions before moving on to the next one. It felt...predatory, like he was readying himself to strike, like a coiled snake, and waiting for one of them to give themselves away. This wasn't simply a friendly conversation or even a sincere apology. This was a thinly veiled threat.

"Well," Clay went on quietly. "I think we all understand each other here. It's probably safe to say that those agents are gonna want to talk to you ladies a few more times before they're convinced there's nothing here and I know that there aren't gonna be any problems. Nothing to worry about here, right?"

Again, a round of nods passed over the table and Isabelle felt like she was going to be sick. It was just one thing after another day...would there be any real reprieve of all this shit or was it always going to be this way? When that uneasy feeling sank to the pit of her stomach, she knew that this was really only the beginning.

Clay nodded his dismissal of them and clamped his lips around his cigar again as he leaned back in his chair. Someone to his left handed him a frosty beer bottle and Isabelle watched uneasily as Jax's stepfather lounged around like he hadn't just not-so-discreetly threatened her and her two best friends three seconds earlier. Like it was just any regular old day. Business as usual at the Samcro clubhouse. Clay had always carried an air of superiority and she'd always understood it as necessary, given his position in the club, but today was the first time she saw the violence and danger in him as well.

She squeezed her eyes shut again and jumped a little when Jax's hands ghosted over the top of her shoulders.

"You wanna head back to my dorm, Iz?" He leaned down to murmur in her ear and she could hear the worry in his voice. "Tell me what happened?"

She just nodded silently, allowing him to pull her out of her chair and down the hallway towards his dorm room. As soon as she was close enough to his bed, she sank down into the mattress and ran her hands through her hair. After a few exhales in a vain attempt to restore some semblance of strength, she dared a glance up to find Jax peering down at her, his face lined with clear distress at her behavior. They both knew this...silent freakout...wasn't normal for her and she supposed he had every right to be worried.

"Babe," Jax started slowly, resting his hands on his knees to bring himself down to her level. "What happened back there? What the hell did they say to you?"

His simple, hushed words broke down the wall she'd built up around herself since being cornered in the precinct and a traitorous tear slipped down her cheek. Jax's face contorted with anguish and immediately sank to his knees, bringing both hands around her face to gently wipe away her tears.

"Iz," he whispered haggardly. "You gotta tell me what's goin' on here. You're scarin' me, babe."

When yet another tear dropped to the floor, he just grimaced and rocked back on his heels. With a deep exhale, his deep blue eyes were swimming with emotions she couldn't quite place. Right now, he looked somewhere in between furious, terrified, and helpless and she knew that combination didn't exactly bode well for the conversation they needed to have.

"What happened, babe?" he pressed again and moved his hands around her face to force her to look at him.

Desperately needing some space, she roughly pushed his hands off of her and spat out: "I was fucking ambushed, Jax. That's what happened."

He sat back on his heels again, giving her the space she'd non verbally asked for but staying close enough that he could get to her again easily if she needed him to. In circumstances like this, she both loved and loathed that about him.

His eyes never left hers as he spoke. "What do you mean, Iz?"

"That agent...Agent Jordan, he made me feel like such an idiot," she shook her head furiously and wiped a stray tear away with the back of her hand. "He knew so many things...things that I hadn't thought about, things that I didn't know."

His hands rested gently on the top of her knees and she decided she needed that physical contact just as much as he did right now. "Like what?"

"Have you really been arrested three times?"

It just slipped out...while she needed to know everything, none of this was going smoothly. They needed to be on the same page here, but their lines of communication had gotten crossed somehow. Jax sucked in a harsh breath and then he hung his head down in between them, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Why didn't I know that, Jax?" she pressed him, needing the answer and needing it now. "I mean, I knew about that time when we were in high school, but the other two...why didn't you tell me?"

The first time Jax had been arrested was a story he'd proudly spread out their high school himself. When he was 16, he and Opie had swiped some beer and weed from the clubhouse, got wasted and high, and then had stormed the streets of Charming-barefoot, no less-to lay claim to it. They were arrested about two hours into their little escapade for public intoxication and disturbing the peace, all in the name of proving their general bad-assery and manliness to the rest of the club. Within less than two hours of their arrest, the whole town was buzzing with mixed reactions of shock, horror, and enthusiasm. Needless to say, they came to school that next Monday riding high and acting like they owned the place, Jax in particular. Even though at the time she'd been scandalized by such antics, she now understood it for what it was: a rite of passage and, probably, their way of proving themselves to the rest of the club, to demonstrate that they could take whatever was thrown at them.

Still, one arrest-especially for something like that-might not have been mattered so much to her. But two others that she had no knowledge of? That little piece of intel Agent Jordan had shared with her needed an explanation.

Jax sighed and tugged a hand anxiously through his hair. "I really fucked up again, didn't i?"

"Yeah," she replied simply. "You did. How are we supposed to be together if we can't talk about this? We're supposed to be moving in together, but...I just don't see how we can even think about starting any of that if you don't trust me."

He exhaled one more time before rocking back on his heels again so he could get a better look at her. "This is a conversation we should've had a long time ago and whatever went down this morning is because of me, Iz, not you. Him ambushing you like that is my fault...I just never found the right time to sit you down and really talk about everything. I'm not sayin' that makes it okay, because it's not. And it's not that I don't trust you, babe...you have to know it's not that; shit...what can I do, Iz? What do I need to do to make this right?"

"You can start by telling me why you were arrested."

He nodded quickly and swallowed tightly. "Alright...you already know about the first one, so, I got the second one when for petty theft when I was 18 and stupid and got caught liftin' some shit outta some asshole's crotch rocket at a gas station. I really shouldn't have done it, but the jerk was just askin' for it...I got two weeks in County for it, so I guess the joke was on me, right?"

He laughed stiffly and his eyebrows lifted, watching her closely for some reaction, but it was difficult to find the humor here when the man she loved was joking about his arrest history. Quickly grasping his error, he cleared his throat and fisted his palm on her knee.

"I got the third about two years ago for assault," he must have seen her alarmed reaction because he immediately jumped into damage control. "Ope, Juice, Tig, Bobby, and Chibs all got brought in too-some shit went down with the Grim Bastards...they're another club we do business with occasionally, and it escalated pretty quickly. Someone called the cops and we all got our asses thrown in County for a month while the Bastards licked their wounds and thought they'd made their point."

Was she supposed to feel better that he wasn't the only one who'd been brought in on those charges? Like assault wasn't a big deal or anything? And then she realized that to him, to them, assault, especially when it was club-related, really was just business as usual. While she'd known that Samcro wasn't exactly on the right side of the law most of the time, she also didn't know most of the details to what that all entailed. She was going to need more than a moment to process all this.

"What else do you want to know, Iz?" he was asking quietly now. "I'll tell you anything you wanna know."

She knew the opportunity he was giving her here and it wasn't one she was going to waste. On some level, she also needed to know just how much he was willing to divulge, especially given their current predicament with the ATF. Whatever he told her would go with her straight to the grave, but something between curiosity and anxiousness needed to know exactly how much he really trusted her.

"Okay," she nodded and relief flooded his face. "So...you're going on another run soon, right?"

He nodded quickly, his eyes focused intently on her and she could already see his resolve to give her whatever she needed right now.

"What do you do on a run?"

Jax didn't miss a beat, only hesitating long enough to take a breath. "We transfer guns to business contacts. It's not always the same contact every time, but we switch up the day, place, and time just to keep from getting tracked. It's usually a pretty quick transaction...we're out in the open when we make the exchange, but it's always in some place where no one can spot us."

Isabelle blew out a deep breath as her mind whirled. "Has a run ever gone bad? I mean, could it be dangerous for you?"

"Only if the contact we're makin' the exchange with wants to stir up shit," he just shrugged. "That's what happened with the Bastards; they didn't think they were gettin' a good deal anymore and wanted more than we could give and shit went bad pretty quickly. But, that was the last time anythin' like that has happened, babe, and that was two years ago. Runs have the potential to go bad-anything we do does-but it's rare, okay?"

"So, what happens when something goes bad like that? What do you guys do?"

"The clubhouse goes on lockdown, which means that everyone-old ladies, kids, everyone-stays in the clubhouse until we've got everythin' sorted out."

"How long does that usually take?"

"Depends on what's goin' on," Jax just shrugged. "But it's sorta like a necessary precaution we take to make sure everyone we care about is safe."

"Okay...do you run drugs, too?"

She almost didn't want to hear his answer, but knew it was just going to eat away at her if she didn't know. Thankfully, he immediately shook his head and gave her a soft smile.

"We don't do that shit, Iz; the club gets into enough bad shit as it is...we don't need that extra pressure. Besides, something like that could carry a life sentence, dependin' on how much you've got on you, and none of us are stupid enough to go down that road just for a paycheck."

Feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off of her, she relaxed just a little bit. He seemed to sense the change in her and shifted closer to her.

"Why do you run guns anyways?" she asked quietly. "I mean, isn't there something else you could do?"

"The club's been runnin' guns longer than I've been old enough to know the difference," he shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't even really know how it all started, but I know it had a lot to do with money."

"How much money do you make anyways?"

She wanted to clamp a hand over her mouth at such a direct question. Curiosity was definitely starting to get the better of her, but there was no taking it back now. When his lips twisted into that sexy, lop-sided smirk, all mortification left her and was replaced with heat directly in between her thighs.

"At T-M? With the club? Or just in general?" he shot back lightly, that grin still etched on his lips and she was grateful for the shift in mood.

"With the club," she affirmed and he sat back on his heels again in thought.

"It depends on the job and how much extra income the club was comin' in on the side, but I guess, in general, it can be anywhere between $5000 to $8000 a month. It'll be more when I get the VP patch."

This was the first she'd heard about this too and frowned. "VP patch? As in...vice president? I thought Piney was already the vice president though?"

"Piney's health is goin' downhill and within a few years, maybe less, he'll be on an oxygen tank. He'll step down then and I'm the next in line."

"Because of your dad?" she asked hesitantly.

He rubbed the back of his neck uneasily and she could tell she'd just unintentionally hit a nerve.

"I like to think it's not just about who my dad was," he answered finally and kept his eyes on the carpet at their feet. "I've been tryin' to prove myself to the rest of the club since I was 16...I want the gavel someday, I really do, but I want it because I earned it, you know? I want to be the leader the club needs someday and I need the rest of the club to trust that I can lead when that day comes."

"I can't imagine having to live up to a legacy like your dad's," she murmured softly. "If it makes any difference, I think you'll be a good leader, Jax. I really do."

He leaned forward to gently brush his lips against hers and then rested their foreheads together. "It makes all the difference in the world, Iz. It really fuckin' does...you don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that."

She swallowed tightly and read the silent desperation in his eyes. "You know I would never ask you to leave, right? I know I may not completely understand everything you do with the club and let's face it, I probably never will, but I would never ask you to throw away everything you've been working so hard for...just like I know you'd never do that to me, either."

He leaned forward to kiss her again and murmured against her lips: "I know, babe; I know."

There were a few more imperative questions just on the tip of her tongue, ones she'd never completely had the courage to ask, and she hoped she'd have the courage now. There was no time like the present and he was offering all the information she wanted like an open book. So far, he'd done nothing but prove that he did, in fact, trust her enough to give her these kind of details. She hoped he would trust her enough-and have enough respect for her in turn-to answer these next questions honestly.

"Have there been...have you..." she stuttered helplessly and his forehead was creased again with palpable worry. "Do you still take girls back to your dorm when I'm not around?"

There. One of her questions was out and there was no going back now. He shocked her by barking out a loud laugh, making her jump from the sound.

"When would I take girls back to my dorm, babe...you're always here..." he trailed off when he saw her humorless expression and the disbelieving grin slid off his face. "Oh shit...you're serious..."

She nodded soberly and felt her chest begin to heave desperately the longer they sat there in silence, which was only really a few seconds.

"Babe, there's nothin' you need to be worried about-"

"What about on runs?" she cut in quickly, needing to get her point across immediately. "The last time you were on a run...before we got together, I heard someone at T-M make a joke about how what happens on a run, stays on a run. Is that true? Do you guys..."

She couldn't even bring herself to finish that last question; the thought of what he might actually answer made her shudder.

He exhaled loudly and chewed on his bottom lip in thought before finally bringing his gaze back up to her. "For some guys...yes, that's true. It doesn't matter to them if they have an old lady or a family back in Charming. They do whatever they want because they can."

"What about you? Do you do whatever you want too?"

Shit, where did that come from? She hadn't meant for it to sound so hostile.

"Jax," she backpedalled immediately. "I'm sorry...I'm not trying to accuse you of anything. I just...I don't know what to think here, you know? I've never even been worried about that before today, before that agent basically told me that you were cheating on me every chance you got."

Jax's eyes darkened dangerously and the air in the room suddenly ran cold.

"I'm not cheating on you, Iz," he spat lowly. "I would never fucking do that to you."

"Not even on a run?" When he opened his mouth to protest, she knew she needed to clarify exactly what she wanted from him. "Jax, if you tell me I can trust you, I'll believe you. I just...I just need to hear you say it, okay?"

That seemed to calm him down a little and the darkness slowly receded. He squeezed his eyes shut and when they shot open again, his gaze softened on her as he reached out to tuck some stray hair behind her ear.

"I would never and I will never cheat on you, Iz," he told her firmly. "Not here in Charming, not on a run, not anywhere. I love you so much it fucking hurts sometimes and I would never hurt you like that. You understand that, right?"

She smiled softly and then she was leaning forward on the bed to pull his mouth to hers.

"Okay," she murmured against his lips. "I'm sorry, Jax."

"Don't be," he frowned back at her. "We should've talked about all this a long time ago."

She could only nod as the last question for him whirled around in her head. It was a heavy question and she was sure it had a heavy answer; but, still...she needed to hear it. Even if it gave her nightmares for the rest of her life, she needed that answer.

"Hey, Jax?"

"Yeah, babe?"

She took a deep breath and felt all her courage pooling up to get this last question out. "Have you ever killed anybody?"

All the blood seemed to drain out of his face in that one moment and she thought he was going to be sick right there on his own carpet. As he stared back at her with that sunken, almost haunted expression, he didn't need to voice an answer. It was already pretty obvious. He swallowed tightly a few times, breathing heavily as he struggled to come up something to say. That was enough. She really didn't need to know how many or when or why...she didn't think she'd be able to stomach the details. Then her eyes shot up at the sound of his voice.

"I didn't want to talk to you about all of this," he whispered hoarsely. "Because I knew I wouldn't be able to take the way you're lookin' at me...I didn't want you to know."

She nodded sadly and reached out to touch his face. "I know...I get it. I really do. But...this doesn't change how I feel about you, Jax. On some level, I know it probably should but I think as long as we don't keep things from each other and don't push each other away when it gets hard, I think we'll be able to get through anything."

He leaned forward until his head rested against her knees and her hands found his hair, gently caressing to give him the consolation he needed right now. She knew that deep down, she'd already known the answer to that question-the one she'd never had the courage to ask before-and as unsettling as the answer was, she also knew that it was even more disturbing to know she truly didn't feel any differently about him. Maybe it was because she'd always known and had fallen in love with him anyways. Maybe it was because, at the end of the day, she didn't care what he'd done as long as he was safe and coming home to her. And she didn't know how she felt about that. Her conscience was screaming at her for even thinking that, but her heart just couldn't help it.

"I'm sorry I've been such a basket case today...my head just got so twisted around; I didn't know which way was up, you know? He just said so many things that just...hurt."

Jax's head shot up at her words. "What else did that agent...what's his name? What else did he say to you?"

With a heavy sigh, she knew this was going to be yet another mood killer.

"He basically said that it was only a matter of time before you get arrested again and end up in jail. He said that it'll be a cycle: you'll commit crimes, get caught, go to jail, get out, and then do it all over again."

Dark fury clouded his eyes and she was almost afraid to continue. He looked like he was going to tear the carpet off the floorboards.

"What else..." Jax fumed, his nostrils flaring and his chest heaving furiously. "What else that did motherfucker say to you?"

She gulped and against her better judgement, delivered the last blow: "He told me that someday, you'll just be in prison and I'll be all alone with our kids."

Jax's lips twitched and then he was up on his feet. He moved with such lightning speed that she heard the crash before she even saw him throw a nearby ashtray directly into the wall. She jumped at the sound of shattering glass and sat frozen on the bed. All she could was watch helplessly while he staggered a few feet away from her, clenching and unclenching his fists as he struggled to regain his bearings. With his back to her, his shoulders hunched dangerously, like he was about to lose it again and then she was on her feet and moving towards him before she could stop herself.

When her hand rested gently on his shoulder, he jumped at the contact and the fury seemed to slip off his face as he turned to face her. His head was buried in the crook of her shoulder before she had a chance to take a breath and she wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him in even closer.

"I'm so sorry, Iz," he whispered into her neck. "That shouldn't have fuckin' happened to you today...I'm so sorry, babe. I should've been there with you..."

"It's okay, Jax-"

"No," he cut in sharply, bringing his head up to look at her. "It's not fucking okay. It's not okay he made you feel that way, that he blindsided you like that. These goddamned assholes think they know everything and they don't care who they run over to get what they want."

She was suddenly assaulted with the way Agent Jordan had looked at her and she knew that this was something Jax needed to know too. If they were really going to be in this together, he needed to know everything that had happened today and this was probably one of the most important details.

"It's not just that, Jax," she started unevenly. "That agent...Agent Jordan...it was the way he was looking at me too. He scared me."

Jax frowned at her words. "What do you mean, babe?"

"I don't know...it was like he was interested in more than just getting information about you. He just sort of..." she blew out a deep breath as she tried to conjure the right words to accurately describe this. "It was more than just making me feel uncomfortable. It was like he trying to get to know me or something and it just...it just didn't feel right. I didn't feel like I was safe alone in that room with him, you know?"

Jax's jaw clenched tightly and his hold on her loosened as he moved to rub a hand over his mouth. She really hoped she wouldn't have to go into more details...this whole thing just needed to be over and the more time she spent rehashing it, the more time it would take to forget.

"That's not gonna happen again," he promised her quietly. "I'll take care of it, okay?"

She nodded silently and knew she had to trust him here. He'd displayed a hell of a lot of trust in her with all the information he'd given her just now and she needed to do the same for him.

"You know I'd never say anything, right?" she pressed anxiously, needing him to understand that all of these secrets were safe with her. "Everything you just told me...I'll never say a word to anyone, not even Donna."

"I know, babe," he smiled softly back at her and ran his thumb down her cheek tenderly. "I trust you...I wouldn't have told you all that shit before if I didn't."

She also knew instinctively that she wouldn't be his old lady if he didn't either and that realization somehow made her feel better, even if it was a conclusion she should've come to a long time ago. Maybe, on some level, this confrontation with the ATF had been good for them. It had forced them to be honest with each other, and it had shed new light on everything she thought she knew about Samcro. While some seriously scary details had been unearthed, there wasn't anything he'd told her that made her want to run out the door screaming her head off. Nothing had changed and this new understanding between them made her feel that they were stronger now, too.

"That's good," she grinned back at him, trying to bring some humor back into the room. "Especially since Clay didn't really seem to feel that way."

When that cocky grin she loved so much slipped right off his face, she was acutely aware that she'd just made a grave error.

"What do you mean?"

Feeling like she was backed into a corner of her own making, she had no other choice, but to confide this one last thing. "Well...you were there. It just seemed like Clay wasn't exactly being friendly...like he was threatening us more than anything."

He huffed out a laugh and put both hands on her shoulders. "You can't be serious, babe. Samcro is your family just as much as it is mine. You don't really think anyone would hurt you, right, Iz?"

There was nothing about the one-sided conversation with Clay earlier that made her feel like she was part of the family, but a little voice whispered to her that that would probably be a more honesty than Jax could handle right now. So, instead, she chose to keep it general and avoid specifics. Maybe she'd be more likely to get a straight answer out of him this way.

"What happens when someone gives up information, Jax? What happens if someone gives something to the ATF?"

His forehead creased into a deep frown and he took a small step back from her. That miniscule amount of space suddenly felt like there were miles between them and her heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach. When his low, almost cold voice called back out to her, she shivered at the impact.

"If anyone rats, we take care of it."

There was no need for specifics. She knew exactly what that meant and the horrifying reality of the situation slammed into her. With those two questions, the gentle, achingly sweet man she'd fallen in love with transformed into the hardened, violent criminal she'd never allowed herself to see. Until now.

"So if I-"

"Don't say it," he bit out harshly. "Don't fucking say it."

"What if it was Donna then?" she quickly changed tactics. "Or Becca? What would happen then?"

He just shook his head furiously and clenched his fists dangerously into his sides. For the first time since she'd known him, she was actually a little afraid of him. While she didn't believe for a second that he would actually physically lash out at her, the potential was there and that chilled her to the bone.

"They'd have to taken care of," he answered her finally, his voice pushing out like a hiss.

"And you'd let them do it? Or would you be the one pulling the trigger?"

"If someone ratted on the club, I would gladly pull the trigger, Isabelle. Nobody fucks with us and gets away with it."

Everything about that, from his use of her full name to the frighteningly calm way he discussed murdering one of her best friends, made her suddenly need out of this room. It would be running, but despite the leaps and bounds they'd just made together, they'd just taken a giant step back.

"I should go," she murmured quietly. Her eyes scanned the floor for her long-discarded purse...she was willing to do anything right about now to avoid having to look at him.

The violence drained from his eyes and even though the softness she was used to reappeared, it didn't make her feel any better.

"Wait...what?" he asked anxiously, moving to get closer to her. "Babe, nothing's gonna happen to you. Everything's gonna be fine."

She shook her head immediately, not ready to give in just yet. "I'm just gonna go home...back to my apartment."

"Why?"

She sighed deeply and bit down hard on her bottom lip. "I just need some space, Jax...this is a lot to process and I can't do it here."

"Okay," he nodded with hope glimmering in his eyes. "Can I come over later? After everything settles down here? I'll take you out to dinner or something...whatever you want."

She knew exactly what he was trying to do right now and that wasn't helping either of them right now. Suddenly pouring on the charm wasn't going to make this all just magically disappear. These were very real issues that she had to work through and she meant it when she said she couldn't do it here in the clubhouse. What she really meant was that she couldn't do it around him. He was just too much of a distraction and being around him would muddle all her feelings into one big pile of mush. There was no way she could truly make sense of everything she'd just learned about him and the club if his presence loomed over her.

So she just shook her head softly and watched helplessly as panic shot through his blue eyes.

"I don't think that's a good idea right now, Jax. I just need some space...some time to figure all this out."

"What is there to figure out though?" he whispered hoarsely. "You said all this didn't change anything."

"It doesn't...or at least, I don't think it does. But you just told me a lot of things that the average person doesn't hear everyday, Jax, and I need some time to wrap my head around all of it."

He nodded slowly, his eyes trained firmly on her like he was waiting for her to just put him out of his misery already. He looked so helpless that she had no choice but to step into him until she could lightly brush her lips against him. If she was leaving, if they were going to spend their first night apart since...God, she didn't even know how long...the least she could do was give him this.

"I'll call you in the morning on my way to class, okay?"

His eyes held so much sadness, so much disappointment that all her resolve almost toppled. She wasn't sure if it was disappointment in her or himself or both, but all she knew was that she couldn't take seeing it for any longer.

So, she scooped up her purse and silently left the room, closing the door behind her. She couldn't look back at him because she was too terrified at what she would find. All she needed was one night, she told herself as she tried to regain her bearings. That had to be enough time because, after everything she'd learned today, the life Jax led-and now, by extension, the life she now led too-didn't seem to allow much time for anything.

* * *

**A/N-Hopefully, I haven't worried anyone too much. Even though their conversation didn't end so great, they still talked about some things that absolutely had to come out, especially given the fact that we all know those ATF agents aren't going away anytime soon. We'll see in the next chapter if they actually make it through the night apart from each other ;)**

**Thank you again for all the alerts/favorites/reviews. It seems like every time I check my email, I've got some new alert and it's really encouraging to know that you guys are still reading and you're still into Jax and Isabelle just as much as I am!**


	4. Good For You

Jax watched, frozen to the carpet at his feet, as the door closed behind Isabelle and he had the sudden urge to throw something again. His eyes darted around the room for something, anything, but all he could do was sink into his bed and let his head fall in his hands. Watching her walk out the door...he'd never felt so fucking helpless in his entire life. Not since he'd had to walk away from her in LA and drive all the way back to Charming without her next to him. This was different though. This could be fixed.

All she needed was some time. Everything he'd laid down on her...he couldn't imagine how it must've felt hearing about all the bad shit he'd done over his tenure with Samcro. And that ashen, disappointed expression on her beautiful face was more agonizing than he'd anticipated. He'd always known having to tell her and having to watch her struggle with all that new knowledge would be worse than a kick in the balls. But he'd never imagined the reality would be so painful.

As he wearily kicked his feet over the side of the bed and sunk deep into Isabelle's pillow, his nose filled with flowers and vanilla. Just salt in an open fucking wound. Insult to fucking injury. Something inside him itched to chase after her, to beg her not to leave him alone tonight, but deep down, he knew that would make an already tense situation worse. They'd gotten into minor arguments before about petty shit that he couldn't even really remember and whatever issues there were had always been resolved almost immediately.

She'd never walked out on him like this before and for the first time in his entire life, he felt conflicted about his involvement within the club. For Isabelle-who was so good and honest and decent-to look at him with such horror, there was no stopping the knee-jerk guilt that shot up through his conscience. And for her to be almost understanding about this whole mess, albeit rightfully shaken by her confrontation with that bastard ATF agent, was almost just as bad, if not worse.

The fact that it was somehow worse for her to innately understand his commitment to the club and drive to one day control the gavel in light of everything he'd told her made him want to tear his hair out. He'd never felt guilt like this over club business. Never questioned why they had to run guns in the first place. Never felt remorse over killing anyone for the sake of the club. He'd always just turned on auto-pilot and shut everything else off because he always knew that if he slowed down long enough to actually think about what he was doing...the guilt would eat away at him.

For the first time, he realized that maybe this life wasn't good for anybody. Sure, it had given him money, stature within the community, all the weed, Jack, and pussy a man could ever want, and the brotherhood. But in return, he had to put himself on the line nearly every day-if there was one thing that motherfucker Agent Jordan had been right about it was that he would end up in jail again. So far, he'd been lucky-the entire club had been fairly lucky the last five years or so-but eventually, it did catch up to them and one, if not more, found themselves serving time. Sooner or later, his luck would run out. Maybe it fucking ran in the family, too.

Quickly shaking himself out of this self-inflicted stupor, he dug into his back pocket for his keys. Torturing himself like this wasn't helping and it wouldn't solve his problems. What would help him, he reasoned, was finding that son of a bitch ATF agent and putting that motherfucker in his place. If anything, it would make him feel better right now and that was good enough for him.

By the time he swung through Charming PD's doors for the second time that day, it was with decidedly more swagger and confidence than hours before. With barely-bridled rage bubbling up within him, he knew he was going to enjoy having this little chat with Agent Fuckstick. In his mind, none of this shit would be happening right now if the ATF weren't sniffing around. Past experience had taught him that the ATF would pull any string and use any method they could to extract what they needed. They wouldn't stop until they'd either exhausted all their options or until someone ratted. He knew he couldn't stop them from bringing Isabelle in again for questioning. If she was a person of interest in their case, he knew they could pick her up whenever they wanted.

But he'd be damned if he was just going to sit there and let Agent Jordan intimidate her and leer at her like a piece of meat. Over his fucking dead body.

Unser stopped in his tracks when he saw Jax coming right towards him and immediately held his hands out to steady him.

"Jax," Unser started quickly, a hint of a warning in his gruff voice. "Now, just hold on a minute-"

"Where is he?" Jax barked at him. "Where's that ATF asshole?"

Unser grimaced and just let Jax slip through his fingertips. He obviously knew a lost cause when he saw one.

"Hold on, Jax," Unser relented. "Just give me a second-you can't go barging around here all hot-headed and seein' red, you know."

"I don't give a shit about that," Jax snapped back. "Just get that asshole out here."

Unser shook his head and exhaled exasperatedly, running a hand over his lined face. Finally ready to give up, Unser head up a hand again before disappearing down a hallway. Jax fought the urge to pace holes into the tiled floors, clenching and unclenching his fists as he readied himself to come face to face with the bane of his existence. They needed to come to an understanding about how they were going to proceed from now on and they needed to do it before he put his fist through a wall.

When Agent Jordan materialized from a side door down the hallway with Unser right on his heels, a smug, knowing expression crossed his face and Jax fought the urge to punch it right off. As much as he wanted to...that really wasn't going to help the situation. It would only make this shit that much worse for Isabelle and everyone else involved in this shit show. So, as difficult as it was, he just folded his arms across his chest with as much semblance of calm as he could muster.

"Ah, the infamous Jax Teller," Agent Jordan pressed a fake smile on his face and extended a hand for him to shake, which Jax promptly ignored. "Nice to finally meet you. I'm Agent Jordan."

"I know who you are," Jax bit out through clenched teeth and he could practically feel the panic radiating from Unser.

"What brings you to the precinct?" Agent Jordan continued as if nothing was off about this exchange. "We sent your old lady home a few hours ago..."

He trailed off expectantly and Jax felt his lips curling into a snarl.

"Listen, asshole," Jax jabbed a pointed finger at him. "Let me make somethin' perfectly clear here: this business with questioning our old ladies is bullshit and you know it. You don't have shit on us and so you're bringin' them in and scarin' them just to stir up trouble."

Agent Jordan held up his hands in defense, coffee and all. "Whoa...slow down there. You and I both know Isabelle-and Donna and Becca for that matter-is a person of interest for our case. My partner and I can bring them in for questioning as little or as often as we like. There's not much you can do about that, Mr. Teller. But I had no intention of scaring Isabelle. That's not what today was about."

Jax eyed him carefully and knew exactly what kind of game he was playing here. Now that he was face to face with Agent Jordan, he understood what Isabelle meant when she'd said he had scared her. Just the mention of her name had made the agent's eyes glaze over and suddenly, Jax wanted to do more than just put his fist through the bastard's face. He'd failed to protect her earlier today, but he wasn't going to fail her twice in one day. He needed to protect what was his.

"Bullshit." Jax growled and clenched his fists one more time to keep from lashing out. "If you really had any kind of a case against Samcro, you'd be pounding down our doors and raiding the clubhouse instead of bringing in our women."

"You have no way of knowing that, now, don't you?" Agent Jordan cocked an eyebrow at him in challenge.

"Then why don't we prove it, huh?" Jax shot right back. "Why don't you take me back into that little room you had Isabelle in today and ask me whatever you want."

"Can't do that," Agent Jordan shrugged. "I'm gonna be up to my elbows in paperwork documenting all the information I got from your old lady today."

Jax chuckled mirthlessly and took a step forward. "Yeah, I bet. You're not foolin' me, asshole. From here on out, you ATF pigs had better start following protocol. If you bring Isabelle in again and you question her alone, I'll make sure you regret every second you spent in that room. Understand me?"

Agent Jordan's eyes darkened and his jaw clenched tightly. "Is that a threat, Mr. Teller?"

"No," Jax just shrugged. "It's a promise and you know it. You don't talk to her, you don't even look at her, unless someone else is in that room with you."

"Don't worry about it," Unser interceded quickly, all but leaping in between them to keep this from escalating any further and waved his arms around to make his point. "I'll make sure me or one of the deputies is in there with her next time, Jax. It won't happen again."

Feeling somewhat reassured that his message had been received, he gave Agent Jordan one last snarl for good measure and stalked out of the precinct. As he swung his leg over his bike and revved the engine, he ran a hand over his face and blew out a weary breath. He'd thought he would feel at least a little better after talking to the asshole, but he really didn't. While Unser's word was still good for something, the odds that he'd actually be able to pull it off every time Isabelle was brought in weren't exactly likely. And he knew, with a heavy heart, that the ATF would be bringing in the three youngest old ladies every chance they got, if only to put extra pressure on the club and the relationships within it.

Now he was just riding aimlessly around Charming, knowing that both the clubhouse and Isabelle's apartment weren't really options for him. What was he going to do if he went back to the clubhouse? He knew he'd just end up digging for that long-hidden bottle of Jack in his closet and that really wouldn't solve his problems. It had been months since he'd fallen down that rabbit hole and he was determined to stay on the wagon, so to speak. Smoking was another story...try as he may, it just wasn't happening as quickly as he'd like. Every time he was almost there and almost had the habit completely kicked in the ass, something hit the fan and he'd have half a pack gone before he knew what happened.

And it wasn't like he could just stop by Isabelle's and expect her to be happy to see him right now. More than anything, he wanted to respect her need for space. He just had to believe that everything would be alright and that she would figure out a way to reconcile what all this meant for her. He knew her well enough to know the morality or, rather, immorality, of his involvement with the club would take her the longest to sift through and he had to give her the time to do that. If he pushed her, he'd lose her.

Life without Isabelle wasn't a possibility he wanted to consider and he wasn't going to waste another moment on that terrifying thought.

So, with no other real options left for him, Jax found himself parking his bike in his best friend's driveway.

* * *

Opie tossed Jax an ice cold Bud and then cracked one open for himself before sinking down into a lounge chair on his patio. Despite the stress of the day, the night was fairly calm, with a warm California summer breeze lifting up the grass just feet away from them. Jax took a grateful gulp of his beer and thanked God he wasn't alone in his dorm to be tempted with that bottle of Jack. It was a slippery slope and wasn't a habit he was interested in picking up again. Thankfully, Opie was more than welcoming and had easily ushered him into his and Donna's house when he'd shown up there unexpectedly about five minutes earlier.

Because they'd known each other since they were in diapers, Opie had just seemed to innately understand why he was there. And for that, Jax would be eternally grateful.

"So, everything alright with Don?" Jax asked cautiously. While he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to broach the subject so soon, they were going to have to talk about it eventually.

Opie just shrugged. "She's not very happy, especially about havin' to bring Ellie to the precinct, but I guess I can see where she's comin' from with that one."

"Shit, bro," Jax exhaled. He hadn't even thought about how terrifying that must've been for Donna-he'd been so focused on taking care of his own old lady that he'd completely bypassed anything else that had happened today. "Donna handled it okay though."

"They both did," Opie nodded to him quietly. "I think given the shit situation today, they both did pretty good, don't you think?"

"Yeah, well, Donna's still here, isn't she? Iz had a shit-ton of questions when we got back to the clubhouse and-"

"Wait, brother," Opie cut in quickly. "The only way she'd have those kind of questions is if..."

Jax couldn't even find the balls to verbalize what Opie already knew and just nodded guiltily into his beer.

"Shit, Jax," Opie exhaled. "No wonder..."

"She said she felt ambushed and that shit's my fault."

"Yeah, you're right," Opie stated simply. "It is your fault."

Jax huffed out a laugh and shifted in his chair so he could dig his cigarettes out of his back pocket. He winked at Opie, who eyed the pack hungrily, and painstakingly lifted a cigarette from the pack. Holding it between his lips, he held out the pack out to his drooling best friend. Opie chewed on his bottom lip before casting a long glance inside the house and then begrudgingly slid a cigarette out. With a knowing grin, Jax held out his lighter to Opie and then lit up his own. They sat there in comfortable silence for a few moments, the difficulty of the day almost completely behind him as Rage Against the Machine echoed from the speakers behind them.

"So what did the ATF say to Isabelle then?" Opie asked him quietly as he flicked some ash into the grass, careful to keep it off the patio where Donna might see it.

"That prick pretty much told her that I was gonna end up in jail sooner or later and then Isabelle would be alone with our kids," Jax murmured lowly. He took another pull from his cigarette to numb his nerves and felt the nicotine work through the agitation coursing through him.

Opie just shook his head. "That ATF bitch told Donna we'd lose the house if I went to jail and her and Ellie would be stuck livin' out of our car."

"Jesus Christ," Jax swore hotly. "Those assholes sure didn't hold anythin' back...I'm glad I paid that fucker a visit then."

Opie's eyes flew into his forehead in surprise and Jax quickly backpedalled to explain.

"Iz told me that ATF asshole made her feel uncomfortable and that she didn't feel safe alone in that room with him, so I took care of it. Talked to Unser, made sure someone's gonna be in the room with her when they bring them in again."

"When, not if, Jax?"

Jax just shook his head sadly. "You know that's exactly how it's gonna be, bro. They're not gonna stop until they think they've found something."

"The worse part about all this shit is that they're kinda right, aren't they?" Opie mused quietly. "I mean, if they ever got enough on us to put us away for awhile, everything they threatened Donna and Isabelle with isn't too far off from the reality, is it?"

"I wouldn't say that to Donna if I were you," he shot back lightly, but it was hard to justify any humor in a situation like this.

"Yeah, well, I won't tell if you won't."

They grinned back at each other...but the sadness Jax saw in Opie's face had to have been mirrored in his own. There was no denying the hard truth of having someone you cared about living this life with you-at some point, it was going to catch up to you and the aftermath extended beyond just yourself. If everything went the way he was hoping it would with Isabelle, within three years or so he wanted to be married and starting a family with her. Opie was already there with Donna. And now they were in almost the exact same position: if things went south with the club, it didn't just affect them individually anymore. Everything they did impacted Isabelle, Donna, and Ellie, and by extension, any future children they had. They were the ones who'd be left behind to pick up the pieces and they were the ones who'd have to carry on if and when the club found itself in hot water again.

"Hey, Ope?"

"Yeah, brother?"

Jax took a deep breath and knew that if there was one person he could voice this concern to, it was Opie. There wasn't anything he felt he couldn't really say to him and he hoped this was no exception. The thought was one that, if ruminated on for long enough, could give him nightmares and while he didn't necessarily want to lay that on Opie, he had to fucking talk to someone about this.

"Do you ever wonder if Donna would be better off without you? I mean, if you guys had never...do you think she'd be happier?"

Opie's eyebrows rose deep into his forehead and he stared almost catatonically out into the slick grass for a few long moments. Then, exhaling through his nose, he turned back to face Jax with a grave expression.

"I think about that every day, brother. Fuckin' keeps me up at night sometimes." Opie murmured hoarsely.

"Me, too," Jax nodded slowly as they both stared out at the grass in front of them. The setting sun had cast shadows of purple and red splintering across the patio and it was easier to focus on the beauty of the scenery at their feet, rather than the ugliness of the truth in this conversation.

"I've thought about that since...Jesus, before me and Iz got together. A part of me has always wondered if we should've even gotten together in the first place, that maybe she'd be happy if she could've just gone to LA and forgotten all about me."

Opie scratched his scruffy beard in thought and just shrugged. "I don't know...Donna loves me. I don't doubt that for a second, you know? So if she wants to stay, have kids and a life with me, then, I guess I'd be a jackass to try and push her away just because I'm a scared as shit asshole."

"You callin' me a scared as shit asshole?" Jax grinned back at him half-heartedly.

"Nah," Opie laughed. "Maybe not. But you know what I mean, right? Our old ladies...they're tougher than us. I mean, after somehow surviving watchin' Donna give birth...man, there's nothing that woman can't do. You'll feel the same way when Isabelle pops out your first one, too. They're fuckin' warriors and I guess they have to be."

"I know, but they can only survive so much, you know?"

"What do you mean?" Opie frowned.

"When me and Iz talked today and we finally set some shit straight about Samcro, she asked me if I'd ever killed anyone and fuck, Ope, I couldn't even answer her. She knew, of course, and Jesus, the look on her face...I wanted to just crawl into a hole and die. I've never been so fucking ashamed of anything in my entire life."

"That's rough, man," Opie nodded in complete understanding, having had almost the exact same conversation with Donna years before.

"You know, for the first time, I started wondering what I'm doin', what we're doin' with the club. I mean, all the bad shit that goes down...any of that could blowback on Iz or Don and Ellie at anytime and...she asked me why we run guns and I couldn't answer that question either because I don't even fuckin' know...do you?"

Opie leaned back in his chair and took a deep pull from his beer bottle, their spent cigarettes long forgotten in an empty bottle beside them. "Jesus, I don't really know the details either. I guess I'd just figured it was something we'd always done and that wasn't really a question you asked when we were kids...shit, or even prospects."

"Do we even really need to run guns? I mean, if we could figure out a way to get more legit income?"

"Sounds like a good idea," Opie grinned back at him. "Future Prez."

"Yeah, well, I'm lookin' at my future VP, so I guess we'd better get our shit together sometime soon before all that's a fuckin' reality."

"No, really, bro," Opie laughed. "I think you might be on to somethin' there. It's worth thinkin' about, that's for sure."

"Well, it would be a better way to keep all this ATF shit from happening again."

"Yeah, bro," Opie nodded. "I know what you mean...so, let me ask you then. You love Isabelle, right?"

He didn't even hesitate. "Absolutely, brother."

"You wanna marry her...if she'll have your ugly ass, that is."

Jax huffed out a laugh and lit another cigarette. He offered one to Opie, who wisely declined a second. "Yeah, bro, I wanna marry her. I got a ring for her and everything...just need to find the right time though."

"There's never really a right time, brother. It's not gonna be perfect, even though she'll tell you it was. You just gotta go for it and hope everything works out for the best."

"Thanks for the advice," Jax laughed and shook his head. "I'll be sure to remember that."

"But," Opie started again, the seriousness returning back to his voice. "Did you ever wonder if Isabelle thinks that maybe your life would be easier if you had an old lady who grew up in the life, like Gemma or even Donna, for that matter? You wouldn't have had to explain all that shit to her today and maybe she'd have handled things a little differently with the ATF...what if she's sitting at her apartment right now thinkin' all that, too? On top of everything else?"

Jesus Christ. He'd never thought about that before. This whole time, these last six months and even before, he'd wondered if all this might be too much for her and that her life might be easier if he just disappeared from it. He'd never once considered that maybe she wondered the same, if she wondered that she wasn't good enough for him. It was all so backwards that he just wanted to laugh...and maybe hang his head and cry like the fucking pussy he felt like.

Opie's gruff voice floated across the night air, pulling him from his depressing thoughts.

"You wanna know what I think, brother?" Opie didn't pause long enough for him to even be able to form a response. "I think she makes you a better man and she'll help you become a fuckin' amazing president and I think you make her better too, even if you can't see it right now. I think you make her reach for things she wouldn't have before. All that shit about wonderin' whether or not she's better off without you doesn't matter if she wants to be with you."

Opie paused one more time for good measure and to make sure he was listening up.

"You and me, brother, we've got two of the best kind of woman there is: loyal, good, fuckin' gorgeous, who are gonna be good mothers, and able to take on all the other shit that comes along with bein' with assholes like us. Women like that are hard to find in this life and you know it. So I get to sleep at night thinkin' that Donna's life might be easier without me in it, but I don't really believe she would be happier-that's how I deal with what you were talkin' about before. I guess that's the funny thing about having a committed relationship, man. You can't be scared of it, or it'll fuckin' eat you alive. You have to actually let the good things happen every once and awhile, otherwise, all you're left with is bad."

There wasn't much he could say to that right now. He was going to need a few days before he could even fully comprehend the weight of those words, let alone what they truly meant for him and Isabelle. He'd always felt like he wasn't good enough for her, like he didn't deserve her, like he was somehow on borrowed time with her. That a criminal like him had no business being with someone as good as her. And now, he wondered if maybe he'd been wrong all along.

"And," Opie continued quietly next to him. "I think you should quit mopin' around and get your ass over to your old lady's place."

"Just like that?" Jax cocked an eyebrow at him as he flung another spent cigarette bud into the grass.

"Nothin' easier," Opie nodded solemnly. "Sure, she could tell you to turn around and leave, but then, at least you tried, right?"

"Jesus, Ope," Jax regarded his best friend with newfound awe and respect. "When the hell did you get so damn smart?"

"I'd never admit this to anyone but you, brother, but I think getting married and having a baby will do that to you."

Jax laughed good-naturedly and slapped a hand on Opie's shoulder. "Well, it looks good on ya, bro. I guess that's what I have to look forward to, huh?"

"That and then some," Opie smirked back pointedly. "I wouldn't recommend having a daughter as your firstborn, though. I'm already having nightmares..."

Jax barked out a laugh, using this down time to summon the courage he needed to man up. Opie was right. Jesus, when was Opie _not_ right? That was all it really took for his mind to conjure the resolve it needed to haul his ass out of that patio chair and after one manly bro-hug, he was swinging a leg over his bike to speed off into the night.

* * *

Isabelle tossed and turned in her bed, hating how empty and vast it felt. The sheets on the left side of the bed were cold and the pillow next to her still smelled like Jax's musky citrus shampoo. She hated that shampoo right now. She wanted to barge into the nearest drugstore and smash all the bottles she could get her hands on.

The last time she'd been alone in this bed had been when it was still housed inside her old childhood bedroom, before her dad had gone to rehab, and before Opie and Donna's wedding. Those nights seemed like ages ago now and it wasn't something she wanted to think about for too long, even if she had sentenced herself to a lonely night tonight by walking out on Jax.

She sighed and rolled over again. Okay, so maybe that was a little melodramatic, but she couldn't help it. She'd had a melodramatic day and it was only fair that she react in turn. All she knew was that she was really starting to regret that decision.

Never go to bed angry. That's what her mom had always told her about relationships. Rule number one, she'd said with a knowing smile and Isabelle had balked in disgust at the thought of what her parents did in their bedroom on any particular night where they'd argued. Not that they'd argued often...but still, that wasn't exactly something a teenager wanted to think about.

Maybe she should just call Jax and apologize for leaving like that. But the problem was, she'd actually really needed this time alone to think. It was just that...she'd had the time she needed and now she didn't want to be alone anymore. She wanted, no, she needed Jax back in her-their-bed.

Over the last several hours, she'd had plenty of time to mentally sift through all the baggage Jax had laid down on her. And while there were some things she knew she'd never be completely on board with, at the end of the day, none of that mattered. Could she live with herself, and Jax, knowing what he might have done before coming home to her at night? Could she still look at him and feel the same way? Could she still marry him and have a family with him someday? God help her...but the answer to all those questions was an unequivocal yes.

Morally, she would need some time to get there completely. But emotionally, she was already there. As long as he was safe, as long as he still came home to her every night and remained faithful to their relationship, she had a feeling she'd be willing to look past a hell of a lot more than she had the strength to admit right now.

Her head shot up at the sound of a key turning in the lock on her front door. For a moment, she contemplated diving for the pepper spray and knife tucked away in her purse, but then remembered her purse was sitting on a chair in the kitchen table. Then she heard a light cough and some shuffling and realized someone was taking their shoes off. Of course he wouldn't call her to tell her he was coming over...she'd specifically told him she wanted to be left alone tonight and he'd probably figured she'd just turn him down if he did call.

Right about now, she couldn't have been happier she'd given him her spare key.

She sat up as he shuffled down the hallway, nearing the door, and she fluffed her hair a little to try to make herself look a little more presentable. Not that it really mattered anyways considering it was pitch dark in her-their-bedroom.

When the door creaked open, Jax's dark form ducked inside and quietly closed the door behind him.

"Hi," she whispered, making him jump slightly at the sound of her voice.

He ran a hand through his hair and took a cautious step towards the bed. "Hey."

"I'm sorry, Jax," she exhaled simply.

"What do you have to be sorry for, Iz?" he asked quickly, taking another step closer to her. "You didn't do anything wrong today."

"I just...I don't know. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for leaving like that, I'm sorry for not knowing what to do today, I'm sorry for judging you..."

He moved until he was standing right in front of her and then crouched down to her level. "You don't need to apologize to me, babe. I'm the one who fucked up. You were right to be pissed...you should've known all that shit a long time ago and I'm sorry about that, Iz."

She reached out to run a thumb across his scruffy cheek. "I get why you didn't want to tell me. It was a lot to take in."

He laughed, in spite of the situation, and then his hands were in her hair and she found herself nestled against his leathered chest. She sighed with relief and burrowed her nose in deeper so she could get more of that smell. Finally, things were back the way they belonged.

With careful movements, she lifted her head off his chest so they could see each other more clearly. "I need you to tell me what's going on, Jax. Maybe not all the details, but, you can't keep things from me anymore, okay?"

He nodded solemnly, his eyes glinting like sapphires in the moonlight. "I can do that, babe. I will do that."

Smiling softly back up at him, she gently slipped his cut off his shoulders and tossed to the floor. "Will you come to bed now?"

He groaned into her mouth as he leaned down to brush his lips against hers.

"I thought you'd never ask, Iz."

They moved slowly, almost leisurely, exploring and tasting as the rest of their clothes found their way to the carpet. Jax kissed her everywhere, sweetly and tenderly, making sure to take his time and not to rush this. Donna had told her once that make-up sex was the best kind of sex because everything was more intune, more passionate, and more emotional and now Isabelle completely understood that sentiment.

Every movement, every kiss, every touch seemed to heighten the emotions they were feeling right then. What they didn't say out loud, they said with their bodies and when Jax finally slide deep inside her, she groaned deeply at the friction, feeling like she might burst from feeling so full from him and from what she was feeling. They'd made love before, but not like this. They'd been connected before, but not like this. It felt like a piece of her soul had splintered and his had meshed in with hers to fill in the empty spaces. This was what it felt like to be completely forged with another person; this was it felt like to be melded with another soul.

And when her climax shattered through her entire body and Jax's shuddered on top of her, she knew that, in spite of the day's drama, they were going to have the best night of sleep they'd had in months. All the weight had been lifted and now, they could finally breathe.

* * *

The next morning, as Isabelle stretched and yawned with the sun, everything felt different. Better. It was like the darkness that had shrouded the day before had blossomed into a beautiful morning. Today was going to be a good day. She could feel it.

Jax was still dozing next to her and sleepily slung an arm around her waist to tug her back under his arm. She chuckled and leaned down to kiss him.

"I gotta get to the studio, baby," she whispered. "I gotta get up."

He mumbled something nearly inaudible and then nuzzled back into his pillow, drifting into sleep again almost immediately. _He's awfully cute when he's sleeping_, she thought tenderly as she tore herself away from the bed. It was a far cry from the cocky, devil-may-care biker swagger he liked to project...when he was sleeping, the hard exterior crumbled to reveal nothing but softness. And now she just wanted jump back into their bed and snuggle with him again, even though she'd already slept in a little later than she'd intended.

Dr. Jacobs, however, did not tolerate tardiness. It didn't matter that she had a 45 minute drive to get into San Francisco, not to mention the time it took her to find a parking spot and walk the distance from Jax's truck to the building. She'd learned to give herself at least an hour and sometimes, even that was cutting it close.

So, after a quick shower and some dry shampoo, she ducked back into their bedroom to kiss Jax goodbye.

"Bye, baby," she murmured in between kisses. "I should be done around 2 or 3. You gonna be at the clubhouse later?"

"Yeah," he mumbled underneath her. "Church at 12; I'll wait for ya, babe."

"'Kay," she smiled down at him as she leaned down to kiss him one more time before rising up from the bed.

"Hey!" he exclaimed suddenly and grabbed hold of her wrist to playfully pull her back down to him.

"I wanna take you somewhere tonight, okay?" he asked in between kisses.

"Where?"

"Anywhere you want...you pick, I'll pay."

"Sounds like my kinda date," she laughed into his lips.

"You know it, babe. Now...get outta here. I'll see ya later, okay?"

"Bye, baby," she nodded, kissing him one more time before finally backing off the bed and out the door.

She really didn't want to leave, but, she told herself, the sooner she got to the studio and took care of business, the sooner she could get the clubhouse and back to Jax. So, she made a quick dash into her second bedroom, which really doubled as her home studio, and grabbed her current project off the easel, and was careful not to make too much noise crunching on the plastic she'd lain down to catch any wayward paint. Then she grabbed a banana for the road and was out the door.

A little over six hours later, Isabelle pulled Jax's truck into her normal parking spot and her heart tugged in her chest when there was no Harley parked in front of her building. She'd never felt this much sadness before to not have him here when she got home, even though she was really just stopping by to drop off her project before heading over to the clubhouse-the last thing she needed right now was to leave her hard work in the cab and have something happen to it. Starting over from scratch, after hours of equal parts determination and frustration, was not an option for her at this point and she needed to see the project safely back on its easel in order to keep from going crazy.

It was weird, she mused as entered the main entryway, how she could have had just a 180 about living with Jax. Two days ago, even a week ago, she'd felt more apprehension than excitement and now all she wanted to do was get her landlord on the phone to figure out how she could get out of this apartment and fast. She didn't even care so much about subletting anymore-that's how far gone she was. All that mattered was just being closer to Jax, to be able to come home to the house they would share together. While she loved having him in her apartment, it felt more like playing house than anything else. Moving into an actual house together would shed some more reality on their relationship and set in stone something she already knew. She wanted to be with him all the time and there was no point in waiting anymore.

Her phone buzzed in her purse and she groaned as she shifted her project from one hip to the other to gain easier access into the depths of her purse. Flipping open the prepay, she frowned at the caller id. She hadn't heard from Becca in almost two weeks-which was really rare for them-and Becca had barely even looked at her when they'd been at the precinct yesterday. Maybe Becca was finally returning one of the many voicemails she'd left her the day before to make sure she was alright. Deciding to just wait until she was back in Jax's truck, she snapped the phone shut and tossed it back into her purse as she ambled up to her door.

She didn't want to deal with Becca just yet. Over the last few weeks, things had just been...odd, to say the least. Becca had always been a little flighty but this was a little different. She seemed more on edge than usual and even a little jittery whenever they were together, especially at the clubhouse and Isabelle had never gotten a chance to get Becca alone for long enough to ask what the hell was going on with her. Oh shit-her heart skipped a beat. Maybe Becca was pregnant or something and didn't know what to do. Jesus, if that was the case, that would definitely explain how strange she'd been-

Just as Isabelle absentmindedly lifted her key up to the door, she froze. The door stood open only a crack, but it was a crack way too much. Jax couldn't have done this when he left this morning...he always tripled-checked the door before he left. She backed up until her heels hit the wall behind her as terror flooded her senses.

Someone had broken into her apartment. Oh God...what if they were still in there, waiting for her? What did they have planned for her? With that last thought, her project dropped to the floor with a thud and she was scrambling for the parking lot, fumbling deep into the recesses of her purse for her phone.

When she was safely locked back inside Jax's truck, she hit the speed-dial on her prepay with trembling fingers, her entire body shaking as her free hand closed around her knife.

* * *

**A/N-Just when things had calmed down a little, right? **

**I'm planning on posting the next prequel, "Pumped Up Kicks", sometime this weekend (hopefully!). I took a few suggestions/things I was already thinking and combined it into a one-shot. Judging by the title, I'm sure you guys have already figured out this new one-shot will feature Isabelle's infamous puking incident at the clubhouse and...we'll get to meet her mom. I'm really excited to get this up and see what you think. **

**Once the new one-shot is up, I'll get right back to posting the next update for this story because I don't want to leave you guys hanging for too long. As always, I love hearing predictions/theories to see how I'm doing and your feedback is always awesome!**


	5. Outlaw Justice

**A/N-Sorry for the long wait. I've figured out the plot problems I was having and am now right on track. Hopefully, I made this action-packed enough to be worth the wait.**

* * *

Jax sped through the parking lot, oblivious to any passers-by, pedestrians, or other vehicles nearby. With rage fueling every motion and every minute that had passed since Isabelle called, he was lucky he could even see straight and even luckier that Opie, Tig, and a prospect had been nearby when he got the call. As he skidded his bike right next to where his truck was parked, his heart skidded to a halt right along with it. Immediately, he was searching for one thing and one thing only; the one thing that he cared about more than anything else; the one thing that his entire world revolved around.

He was barely cognizant of the truck's door opening and then Isabelle launched herself into his arms. Fuck, she was shaking like a leaf and when he lifted up her chin to get a better look at her, he wanted to punch right through the window of his truck. Isabelle bit down on her bottom lip to keep herself from crying and he could still see her lip quivering. God, she looked so scared-her eyes were wide and haunted; her face was pale and blotchy at the same time, like the adrenaline coursing through her wasn't quite sure how to manifest itself.

"Babe," he whispered hoarsely as both hands closed around her face. "You sure you're alright?"

Isabelle nodded tightly into his hands and bit her lip again. "I'm okay."

"Stay here with the prospect," he instructed quietly. "We're gonna go check everything out."

She nodded again and smiled weakly at the prospect, who had dutifully already taken his place next to the truck. Jax kissed her quickly on the forehead before motioning with his head to Opie and Tig. They immediately fell into step behind him and Tig crouched down to the inspect the tumbler as Jax fumbled for the key.

"Doesn't look like it was messed with, bro," Tig reported as he straightened up.

Opie cast a careful glance back at the parking lot to make sure Isabelle was out of earshot. "Whoever did this probably waited 'til you left this morning, brother, and then sat there a little longer until someone either went in or came out. It's easy enough and there's no other security in this building besides this front door here."

Jax swore under his breath as he shook his head and unlocked the front door. He should've looked into the security at this apartment complex more...but, at the time, he was more concerned about location than anything else. When he wasn't in such a hurry to get over to Isabelle's place, it only took him five minutes to get there from the clubhouse. Today, it was more like less than two. And, in reality, this security set-up here was no different than at any other apartments in the area. Whoever did this was smart. And fucking dead.

They quickly scanned the hallway for anything out of the ordinary and Jax's heart plummeted to his stomach when he found Isabelle's abandoned project lying face down two feet away from her door. He swallowed tightly as he swooped down to tilt it upright against the wall and then gingerly pushed open Isabelle's door with Opie and Tig right on his heels. What he saw stole all the air in his lungs and for a moment, he couldn't breathe.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Tig muttered behind him as they stepped inside the demolished apartment.

Isabelle's apartment wasn't lavish and was definitely on the small side, but she'd put great effort into giving it enough style and care to turn it somewhat into a home. But all that effort was now tossed around the living room and torn into shreds. Everything that could be upended was, everything that could be torn was stripped to the bone; her TV and laptop were smashed to pieces, papers were everywhere, every shelf in the living room was thrown down into the ground, every drawer and cabinet in the kitchen was emptied and strewn about on the tiled floor, and there was really no visible square inch of flooring that wasn't covered...he didn't even want to go into either of the bedrooms. The entire place was completely destroyed.

As Opie and Tig continued to inventory the damage, Jax sidestepped as much debris as possible to get to the second bedroom. If the living room and kitchen were any indication, what he was about to find in there wasn't going to be pretty. And even though he didn't want to look, he knew there was no way he couldn't.

The second he opened the door, his entire body froze. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to believe what he was seeing, and when he opened them again, everything was still the same. It looked exactly like the last time he'd been in here. Nothing had been touched. Nothing had been disturbed...and then his senses were assaulted. It took him a moment to figure out exactly what it was and then his hands clenched with fury at his sides. That motherfucker had pissed on every single painting and drawing Isabelle housed in this room.

Even he knew that even if they could be salvaged after something like that, there was no way Isabelle could ever actually do anything with them now. He knew how many hours had gone into what was inside this room, how much blood, sweat, and tears, and how much pride Isabelle put into each and every piece. This was more devastating than anything that been destroyed outside of this room because all those things were replaceable. Isabelle's work, however, was not. Whoever was responsible for this might as well have ripped every one to shreds. Whoever was responsible for this was fucking dead.

Somehow in the midst of his white-hot rage, he saw the scrap of frayed material lying directly underneath the easel closest to the door. He didn't even need to bend down to see what it was: a Mayan patch. His hands closed around the material and squeezed into a clinched fist.

"Jesus," Opie exhaled behind him and covered his nose from the smell. "Is that what I think it is?"

Jax just nodded and held up the patch. "This was fuckin' Salazar."

Opie's eyes went wide with alarm and he immediately held up his hands. "Jax...you gotta bring this to the table. You can't just go flyin' off the handle here-you're just gonna make this shit worse."

"How could it possibly be any worse, Ope?" Jax shot back, unable to keep his voice calm and level anymore.

"You can't take care of this by yourself, man," Tig interjected, stepping next to Opie as he spoke. "Ope's right. You gotta take this to the Redwood, then we'll handle this shit."

"This isn't club business," Jax spat, narrowly resisting the urge to kick over one of the easels in his rage. "This shit is personal and you fuckin' know it. I don't have to bring shit to the Redwood."

Jax moved to exit the room, but Opie stepped directly in his path and held up his hands to stop him.

"Slow down, Jax. Think this through. You go on a manhunt for Salazar by yourself with a vendetta and that shit could go south real fast," Opie told him calmly.

"Yeah, well, I'm not goin' by myself," Jax rose his eyebrows at him. "'Cuz you two are comin' with me."

Opie exhaled roughly and squeezed his eyes shut. "Jesus Christ...Jax. I think you might end up regrettin' this shit, you know."

Jax just shrugged and pushed past them both to hike through the debris. While reason ebbed at his conscience-and Opie was probably right-the only thing he could focus on for longer than a second was putting his fist right through that asshole's jaw and shattering it all over the floor. Never in his entire life had he felt this bloodthirsty, this violent, this driven by blind rage. He didn't care. He didn't care if the club came down on him for going after Salazar without permission. As far as he was concerned, permission was the last thing he needed right now.

"Ope," Jax called over his shoulder as he stalked out to the hallway. "If this was _your_ house and _your_ old lady, you'd feel a little differently, don't you think?"

He nodded to himself when he heard Opie's sigh of surrender and then there was some shuffling behind him as Opie and Tig followed him out of Isabelle's apartment. He didn't stop until he was standing in front of his truck again and nodded to the prospect, who was right where he'd left him.

"Drive Isabelle over to the clubhouse and stay there until we get back," Jax instructed him sternly. The prospect nodded back in silent reply and rounded the other side of the truck to head over to his bike.

Then Jax turned back to face Isabelle, who was watching him carefully with somber blue eyes as she leaned against the side of the truck. He reached out to tuck a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear and then cupped both sides of her face.

"How long are you gonna be gone, Jax?" Isabelle asked quietly and he appreciated that she seemed to innately understand that he was going to take care of this for her. Especially since she hadn't yet seen what was left of her apartment.

They could deal with that later. Now, he needed to make this right and he needed to pummel Salazar into the ground.

"I don't know, babe," he murmured back. "Just stay at the clubhouse and I'll come pick you up later, okay?"

She nodded slowly. "Okay, baby. Please be careful."

"I always am," Jax grinned back at her and leaned forward to press a quick on her lips. "See ya later, babe."

He waited until Isabelle pulled away from the apartment, with the prospect close behind her on his bike, to turn to Opie and Tig to bark out some orders. This was his show and if either of them didn't like it, they could get on their bikes and head back to the clubhouse. Fuck if he cared right now. That wasn't going to change shit because he was going with or without them.

"Let's get Alvarez on the phone," he instructed pointedly and clenched his fists in anticipation. "See if he knows where his old lap dog has been lately."

* * *

Jax strode up to the doorway and his eyes just about glazed over as he rose his fist to knock. Once Alvarez was brought up to speed about what his former associate was up to, he was more than willing to give up all the known locations Salazar tended to frequent. As luck would have it, they'd found him at the first place they tried-his house. Salazar was either incredibly stupid or incredibly confident that he wouldn't retaliate. Either way, Salazar was going to be feeling every single inch he'd destroyed in his old lady's apartment.

But the fact still remained that Salazar had purposefully left his old patch right where Jax could find it. The douchebag wanted him to know exactly who was responsible and Jax had no doubt in his mind that Salazar thought they were even now. That all their shit was settled. Not even fucking close.

He pounded fiercely on the front door and felt Opie and Tig shift anxiously behind him. They didn't want to be here right now and he didn't really give a shit. This was his old lady and his fucking business. The club didn't have anything to do with this-this had everything to do with all the times he and Salazar had stared each other down, each time Jax had worked overtime to report back to Alvarez all the ways he'd fucked up, each time Salazar came up empty and each time Jax revelled in every wrong move he made...it had all come down to this.

Salazar had hit below the belt with this one and he fucking knew it. Just the thought of him following him-or God, Isabelle-to her apartment and waiting for him to leave made his insides clench with furious anticipation. Jesus, he couldn't even let himself think about what could have happened if Isabelle had come back when Salazar was still there. That asshole should be thanking his fucking lucky stars right now that she wasn't.

A few moments later, the door swung open to reveal Salazar, dressed in a dirty wife-beater and a half-empty beer in one hand. The smug expression drained from his face and then he swiftly moved to shut the door in Jax's face. Too bad he was too quick and slammed his foot right into the middle of it, knocking Salazar back into his living room.

"Hey, man, listen," Salazar held up his hands in clear desperation. "Nobody got hurt. No big deal, man-we're square now."

Jax stepped inside the living room, with Opie and TIg hot on his heels, and cocked an eyebrow at him. "Square? You think we're square? Man, you're even fuckin' stupider than I thought."

He moved forward until he was toe to toe with the man he was going to take great pleasure in beating to a bloody pulp and his lips curled back into a snarl. "Your first mistake, assshole, was fuckin' with my old lady. And the second, dumbfuck, was lettin' me know it was you. You think I'm just gonna stand here and let you shit all over what's mine and we call it square?"

"You cost me a shit-ton of money, ese," Salazar interjected hastily. "I was gonna make over 100 Gs from that deal and you fucked it."

"100 Gs, huh?" Jax nodded to him and laughed mockingly. "Bullshit. Everyone knows you're not smart enough to pull somethin' like that off."

Rage flared up in Salazar's eyes and just as he was gearing up to swing, Tig appeared at his side and twisted his arm back before he could move an inch.

"Watch yourself, bro," Tig leaned into Salazar menacingly. "You should know better than to go after a woman. You deserve everything you're about to get handed, asshole."

"I didn't fuckin' hurt her!" Salazar hollered back in his face.

As if on cue, a short, scantily-clad young Mexican girl appeared in the hallway. "Hector, what's goin' on-"

She stopped short as soon as she took in the three Reaper cuts standing in her living room.

"Get back in the bedroom, Louisa!" Salazar yelled back at her. "Turn around and get the fuck away!"

Louisa's face contorted and before Jax knew what was happening, she pulled her piece from the back of her shorts and started waving it around like a madwoman. Thankfully, Opie was faster and was on her within seconds, snatching the gun out of her shaking hands and twisting her arm behind her back. He shoved her down into the nearby couch and kept her Glock trained on her just for good measure.

Jax nodded to him now that the situation was under control and turned his attention back to Salazar.

"So," Jax started again, leaning down to get in his face. "Let's try this again. What were you gonna do if my old lady was in there when you fuckin' broke in, huh?"

Salazar's eyes flooded with sheer panic and Jax didn't really need him to speak to hear what he already knew: if Isabelle had had the misfortune of coming home early, Salazar wouldn't have hesitated to tear her to pieces too. Jax's lips curled into a menacing snarl and all he could see was red. Right about now, he was surprised he was even seeing clear objects in the room he was so blinded by this overwhelming rage.

He'd feared for Isabelle's safety before, which had led to her ending up strapped to a gurney, and while that was a very real concern, her dad had never intended to inflict harm on her. It was an accident-but this particular bullet they'd dodged was a different story. Salazar was out for revenge and he knew the fucker was crazy enough that, if Isabelle had come home to find him there, he would have seen it for the opportune moment it was and acted on the chance to inflict real pain.

And now that he'd opened up the rage-fueled floodgates, there was no stopping the rush that followed.

"You know," Jax started darkly. "You were right before. About us gettin' square. We should be square. Then this shit between us can be finished once and for fuckin' all."

He pulled his own Glock out of the holster underneath his cut and pointed it directly at Louisa's head. The girl whimpered from the couch and Jax chose to ignore the fact that both Opie and Tig were gaping openly at him in shock. He wasn't normally prone to such spiteful violence, but, fuck, Salazar had hit a nerve in threatening his old lady. Nobody fucking threatened his old lady and was able to get up on both feet to talk about it.

"How do you like it, huh?" Jax snarled back at Salazar, still holding his Glock trained on the girl on the couch. "How do you like someone comin' up into your space and scarin' the shit out of your woman? Doesn't feel so good, does it, asshole?"

"Jax..." Opie's voice called out to him to bring him back from the brink. He didn't miss the warning in his tone, but right about now, that was the least of his concerns.

"I got it, Ope; just keeping these shitheads in their fuckin' place," Jax shot back tightly, keeping his focus trained on the man shaking with anger in front of him.

"Now," Jax turned back to Salazar. "We're almost there. We're almost fuckin' square now."

He swiftly tucked his Glock back in its holster and then swung his fist until it connected right in Salazar's jaw. With his fury now completely unleashed, he kept swinging and kicking, oblivious to the shouting around him, until his knuckles were torn and bruised and covered in Salazar's blood and until Tig finally dragged him away.

His chest heaved violently as he watched Salazar crawl around the bloodied floor and spit a tooth out two feet away from his shoes. Jax crouched down and grinned victoriously at the mangled mess he'd made.

"Now, we're fuckin' square."

* * *

Isabelle ran a hand over her tired eyes and gratefully took the beer the prospect slid over to her. Donna was bouncing Ellie anxiously on her hip next to her as Gemma eyed them both warily. Becca was still nowhere to be found, but that was honestly the least of her worries right now. She'd tried calling a little after she got to the clubhouse, but had only gotten Becca's voicemail. Just the fact that she'd left her best friend a message to say her apartment had been broken into and now, it'd been almost two hours and still, nothing...there was something seriously wrong here, but she didn't have the energy nor the presence of mind at the moment to dwell on it for too long.

Her number one priority right now was Jax. Or rather, where he was, what he was doing, and what kind of state he going to come back in. She knew him well enough to know that whoever was responsible for what happened to her apartment was going to be looking a hell of a lot worse than her man, but still...the barely-bridled violence and rage burning in his eyes before he'd left with Opie and Tig had scared her. Well, that was putting it mildly. It had terrified her. And for a moment, she'd panicked that she'd lost him, that he wouldn't come back to her in one piece, and now...sitting here just waiting was nothing short of cruel and unusual punishment.

Thankfully, it wasn't much longer until the tell-tale roar of motorcycles echoed through the quiet clubhouse. Isabelle jumped at the sound and Donna cast a sympathetic glance her way.

"I'm sure he's fine," Donna reassured her gently and continuing bouncing Ellie on her hip.

"Yeah...Opie, too," she tried to reply back calmly, but had a difficult time faking it. The only way she was going to relax was when she saw Jax, walking upright and with all limbs and body parts intact.

She didn't have to wait long because Jax strode into the clubhouse with Opie and Tig right on his heels. The first thing she noticed was the triumphant smirk on Jax's face and just as she'd begun to relax, her eyes settled on his bloodied and torn knuckles. While she'd known exactly what he'd done and why, she hadn't been prepared for the physical evidence.

Jax's dark eyes roamed the clubhouse hungrily for her and she had to take a shaky breath to calm down. When his eyes settled firmly on her, his lips twisted into a smile, silently telling her that everything had been taken care of, that nothing was going to happen to her again. Just as he was stalking towards her, Clay stepped in his path.

"Everything handled, Jax?" Clay asked gruffly, clamping his teeth around his cigar as he spoke.

Jax nodded quickly, his eyes darting between his stepfather and his old lady. "No problems."

Opie huffed roughly next to him and Jax rose his eyebrows at his best friend. Isabelle watched them carefully as she tried to decipher the meaning behind their silent communication. She'd given up trying to figure out their secret language months ago, but this was important.

Clay cocked an eyebrow at Jax, his black eyes shifted quickly between them. "I respect your decision to handle this outside the club, Jax. This was personal shit between you and Salazar and I get that. You brought back-up with you and you handled your shit. You got no problems on my end as long as there's no blowback."

"There won't be any blowback," Jax pushed out through tightly clenched teeth. "He got the message."

"Alright," Clay dipped his head down in approval. "Go find your ol' lady."

Jax didn't waste any time and Isabelle bit down on her bottom lip to keep her emotions in check as he closed the short distance between them. Her arms were around his neck before she could even fully register that he was standing right in front of her and then his lips were pressing into hers hungrily. For a moment, she forgot that they were standing out in the open, right at the bar where everyone could see them. She quickly broke away and reached down to inspect the damage to his hands.

"Baby..." she whispered softly as she tenderly brushed her fingertip on a piece of torn skin.

"I'll be fine, Iz," he smiled back at her and just moved closer in between her legs, oblivious of anything else around them.

"Why does Opie keep looking at you like that?"

Jax turned his head to find his best friend shooting daggers at the back of his head and just shrugged. "He thinks I took it too far. No big deal."

Everything seemed to freeze as these words registered. "_Did_ you take it too far?"

Jax chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, shaking his head. "Honestly, I don't think I took it far enough. But that shit's over now, okay, babe? It's done."

Knowing that she could ask more questions later, when they were alone and had had some time to calm down, she decided to drop it for the time being. Besides, she knew he wasn't going to like what she was about to request anyways. Might as well choose her battles while she could.

"You wanna go clean me up?" He was asking her now with that husky voice he knew drove her up the wall.

She chuckled and playfully swatted at his chest. "Any excuse to get me alone, right?"

"You know it, babe."

"Okay, but after that," she told him pointedly. "I want you to take me back to my apartment."

His face twisted with anguish and immediately shook his head. "Iz-"

"Jax, it's my place, my things...I just wanna see it...see if there's anything worth saving." It hadn't taken her long to come to that conclusion and there was no way she was backing down on this one. He couldn't keep her out of her own apartment, even if it was because he thought he was protecting her.

"And Clay had some prospects go over there to start cleaning up, so it's probably not even as bad as when you saw it,' she continued quickly, needing to capitalize on any momentum she'd just gained.

Jax ran a hand over his face, despite the pain he had to be feeling in his hands, and grimaced harshly. "I don't know, Iz...maybe we should wait until the prospects cleaned things up a bit more..."

"Jax," she cut in quickly, knowing that this last bit of information she had to share would definitely impact his perspective. "I just wanna grab some clothes and then I want you to take me home. That's it."

He frowned down at her and she was grateful everyone had just continued chattering around them. Because everyone else was too wrapped up in their own conversations, it was almost like they had some privacy.

"What do ya mean, Iz?" he frowned. "You wanna go back to the clubhouse, right?"

"No, baby," she laughed. "I want you to take me home. You know, to our house?"

Realization flooded his eyes almost immediately and she could already see his resolve soften. It was interesting...all the things she was learning about being in a relationship with the hard-edged, tough-as-nails biker that he was. She'd figured out pretty quickly that there wasn't much he would deny her. In fact, she knew without a doubt that he had a hard time saying no to her in general. So, she was positive this wouldn't be any different and besides, she wanted to be as close to him as possible tonight. Spending their first night in their new house together was about as close as she could get right now.

"But..." he sputtered and she had to bit her lip to keep from laughing. "We don't have anything in there. No furniture, no food, nothing, babe."

She just shrugged. "So we grab some pillows and blankets from my apartment and camp out in the living room until we can get some furniture. I know we said we were gonna wait a little bit longer, but I don't want to go back there, Jax. Not for good. And I know you don't want me to go back there either. I just want to start our life together and we might as well start it now, you know? Maybe this is the universe's way of telling us it's time to move in together."

His lips spread into a wide, beautiful smile as recognition glimmered in his eyes and she felt her insides twist and turn from the impact. "I really love you, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, baby, I know."

* * *

That feeling of all around happiness-that feeling she had whenever she was in close proximity to Jax-lasted right up until Jax pulled up to the front of her apartment. While she'd spent the better part of those two hours he'd been gone oozing with worry over his well-being, she hadn't allowed herself to ruminate on what was waiting for her inside her apartment. The reality was just too frightening to think about for too long.

"You sure you wanna do this, Iz?" Jax murmured in her ear as he led her up the walkway to the main entrance. "I can just go in, throw some shit in a bag for ya, and then we can head right over to the house. You don't have to go inside, babe."

She knew what he was doing and understood why he was doing it. He was protecting her. Just like he always did and even though that just made her heart swell at the thought, he couldn't protect her from everything. This was her apartment. These were her belongings. And thank God for renter's insurance.

"No," she shook her head with fierce resolve. "I need to go in. It'll just drive me crazy if I don't see it."

Jax swallowed tightly and tightly, placing his hand on the small of her back to lead her inside. Once they approached her door, he promptly pushed it open to reveal the disaster inside. For a few moments, she just stood there, frozen in place with her trembling hand covering her mouth. This couldn't be real...this couldn't be her apartment. This was happening to someone else. This was someone else's life.

With a gulp, she stepped around Jax, who was instructing the three prospects currently on cleanup duty to take a break, and surveyed the damage. Her TV and computer were demolished. All her shelves of books and movies were overturned...so, maybe there was something salvageable there. The curtains were ripped to shreds. Her couch and chair were slashed up like Freddy Krueger. The kitchen table was overturned and crushed, like someone had stomped on it. Every drawer, every cabinet...everything was destroyed.

This wasn't someone else's life. This was hers. This was what she had signed up for when she'd agreed to be Jax's old lady and somehow figure out how she fit within this life. Within his life. This was the consequence. Or at the very least, one of them. With a deep exhale, she squeezed her eyes shut and told herself that what had happened to her apartment and all her belongings wasn't actually about her. Jax would have to explain why this had happened and she didn't doubt that he would give that information freely. She understood what this life was all about now...she just wished she could've learned this lesson differently.

Against her better judgment, she started heading for the second bedroom. If the living room and kitchen were in this state, even after the prospects had been cleaning for two hours, she couldn't imagine what her makeshift studio looked like. She didn't want to know...but she still had to. She couldn't stop now.

"Iz..." Jax called out to her desperately and she could feel him right behind her. "Don't."

She just pressed forward and flung open the door. At first, relief flooded through her and almost knocked her sideways. Everything was fine. Whoever did this hadn't gotten far enough to destroy all her hard work. And then she smelled that pungent, sour odor that could only be one thing. In complete disbelief, she turned back to face Jax, whose face had paled with grief. Every painting she'd ever done, save for the one in the hallway and the three still at the gallery, were in this room. And now, they were all destroyed.

Unable to control herself any longer, she lurched forward until her hands came in contact with some canvas and she kicked right through it before heaving it into the wall. She'd gotten her hands on another one when Jax's arms closed around her and gently tugged the ruined painting from her. She collapsed into his chest, allowing him to bear the brunt of her weight, and finally released all the anger, frustration, devastation, and terror she'd felt for the last two hours.

No one was equipped to handle something like this and now, she had nothing left to do but weep in his arms. She just felt so...violated. And, really, these were just possessions and materials. Everything could be replaced-with the exception of her paintings-and she didn't even want to think about what might have happened had she decided to come home from the studio sooner.

"It's alright," he murmured gently and kissed her hair. "I got you...I got you, Iz."

He allowed her to cry it all out before tenderly taking her chin in his hand. "You're okay, babe. This is all gonna be okay."

"What happened, Jax?" she whispered hoarsely. "Why did somebody do this?"

He blew out a deep breath before cradling her against him and tangling his hands in her hair. "This is my fault. This had nothing to do with you, Iz. Long story short, I got this asshole, Salazar, kicked out of the Mayans because he sucked dick at his job. He blamed me for it and even though it was his fault, I shouldn't have egged him on every chance I got like I did. I got his ass canned and he came back at me through you. This is my fault, babe."

"How did you get him out of that club?" She didn't know why, but she could sense these details were important and needed to know exactly what happened.

"He was muling drugs behind his president's back for cash on the side. I told you before, we don't deal drugs and the Mayans don't either. Salazar's deal was messin' with another associate of ours and we would've lost their business, but I stepped in and took care of things by killing two birds with one stone. Told the Mayans what was up, their Prez kicked Salazar's ass out, and now he can't deal anymore in this territory without a patch."

"Wow," she breathed. She had no idea he was that smart tactically. "That was some quick thinking."

"Thanks, babe," he grinned down at her. "Like I said, he blamed all of it on me and even though I had somethin' to do with it, all it came down to was him bein' a crazy, dumbass like I always knew he was."

"So what did you do to him, Jax?"

The question was a fair one and one he needed to answer. After their discussion the day before, they both understood how imperative it was that he tell her exactly what was going on and why.

He exhaled deeply and ran a hand over his face before finally speaking. "I tracked him down through his old Prez, kicked down the door, and taught him never to fuck with a Son's old lady, especially mine."

There was a part of her that was more than a little thrilled he'd clearly beaten this Salazar guy to a bloody pulp for her. That he'd went into a rage and tracked down the man responsible and brought him to outlaw justice. The alpha male act was one Jax knew well and the more she was exposed to it, the more she wanted. And there was another part of her that didn't know how to feel about that. But the other part, the part that secretly loved it, was turned on as hell.

But still, she knew somehow that this wasn't the full story.

"Is that all, Jax? You beat him up...that I can see," she gestured to his now bandaged hands as she spoke. "But is that it?"

She watched him swallow, instinctively knowing he had more to tell and that she wasn't going to like it. At this point, considering she'd just gotten a crash course in Samcro dealings, she was ready for it.

"I held his girlfriend at gunpoint in front him," Jax murmured hoarsely next to her, unable to meet her eyes. "I wanted him to know what it felt like to have someone he cared about threatened, to watch his girl scared..he needed to know what he did."

She surprised herself by nodding solemnly. That wasn't exactly what she'd been expecting to hear, but it was more or less on par with her understanding of the way the club operated and the way Jax operated within the club. She was quickly figuring out that it was better to just push those images of Jax holding a gun to some girl's head out of her mind. There was nothing that could be done about it now. And with every second that ticked by, the more she was starting to understand, and maybe even embrace, what this life with Jax really meant.

"Thank you for telling me, baby," she pressed her face into his neck as she spoke and felt him react beneath her fingertips. "I understand why you had to do it."

He kissed her hair and she could feel the relief radiating off of him. "Let's go home, babe."

* * *

Jax snapped his prepay shut and tossed it onto the empty counter in the kitchen. It was strange to be camping out in a house without a chair or even any toilet paper to speak of. The fact that he actually owned this house made it all the more stranger. He was a home owner. Shit, it was going to take him awhile to get used to that.

Luckily for them, they'd been able to salvage enough pillows and blankets from Isabelle's apartment to get them by for a little while. After stopping back at the clubhouse to grab the only air mattress he could find, his TV and DVD player in his dorm, along with the movies Isabelle had picked from his small collection, they were set for the night.

Tomorrow, they'd have to begin the process of going through the rest of Isabelle's furniture to see what could be saved and eventually, he'd have to hand over his credit card to let Isabelle, his mother, and probably Donna too, have their way with it. Not that it mattered all that much to him. He'd had every intention of letting Isabelle furnish and decorate their house however she wanted anyways, before all this shit went down. If there was any silver lining to be had, it was that the whole process of them moving in together was happening sooner rather than later, with sooner being tomorrow.

And as long as Isabelle was happy, he was happy.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter, trying to figure out how to get the images from this day out of his head, when the answer strode up right next to him, wearing one of his Reaper T-shirts, and hopped up on the counter.

"Hey, baby," she smiled softly to him, kicking out her bare legs in front of her and he had a sudden urge to reach down to trail his fingers all the way up. She surprised him by reaching out to gently knead the tense muscles in his neck.

He squeezed his eyes shut at her tantalizingly good ministrations; she knew all the right spots to hit and was working him over in all the right ways.

"Pizza'll be here in about 45 minutes," he groaned with his eyes shut.

She didn't say anything and he was hyper-aware of how close he was to touching her. So close...yet so far. That needed to be rectified immediately. Her bare legs were less than inches away and all he wanted to do right was feel the silky, smooth leg all the way up to what was waiting for him underneath the edge of that T-shirt.

But this was his old lady here. The woman he loved more than he loved himself. The woman he'd brought a beat-down on another man for. The woman he'd kill to protect. There was no sense in denying himself any longer and he decided to take what was his. Six months ago, he'd all but sat on his hands to keep himself from moving too quickly with her and now he couldn't seem to figure out how to pump the brakes, even if he wanted to. He had to have all of her. He needed all of her. And he needed to expend all this leftover aggression from the day's events.

He pivoted around until he was nestled in between her thighs and shivered as her hands crept down his back and slid underneath his shirt. He was in the mood to take tonight and knew her well enough to know she'd be down with where he wanted to take her. Just as he was about to assault her with his mouth, her eyes flew open and he stared down into soft, crystal-clear blue eyes that made his heart leap into his throat.

"Baby," she whispered. "Make it go away...please."

He froze, feeling all the hot need slip right out of him. He knew exactly what she was asking him and God help him if he denied her. There was no way he could ever deny her anything. Anything she asked for, anything she wanted, he was going to give her. And even though his mind had been on a kinkier, rougher, faster track tonight, he had no problem with slowing down and doing whatever she needed him to do tonight. She needed to forget everything she'd seen and heard today.

So tonight, she needed him to go slow. To be tender with her. And to love her. He could do all of that and then some.

So, he leaned forward and gently brushed his lips against hers, allowing his fingers to skim over the tops of her thighs until they found their way underneath his shirt. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he slipped the shirt over her head and a moment later, her soft fingers were pulling his own shirt over his head. He bent down to place feather-light kisses on the insides of her thighs, gently nudging her to lay down all the way on the counter as she sighed underneath him.

When his tongue touched her clit, her back arched up off the counter and her hands were tightly wound in his hair, making him grin against her skin. He fucking loved that about her-no matter what was going on with them, whether it was club shit, school shit, or just plain old life shit, sex was always something that just worked between them and she was always hot and ready for him. Tonight, even in her worked up state, was no exception. He'd have to make a point to remind her again tonight that she was the best fucking lay he'd ever had in his life.

He swirled his tongue in long, leisurely circles, taking his time and needing her to feel every single flick and taste he took. He just needed her to relax...he needed to make it go away for her. Because he'd be the first to admit that he didn't always know the right thing to say-especially when it came to her-this he could do for her no problem. This was something he knew how to do. And if this was what she needed, then, fuck, he was gonna give it to her.

As her back arched up from the counter, her thighs quivered around his cheeks and he moaned deeper into her center. All his willpower was working on high alert just to keep him right where he was. He knew he couldn't unearth himself until he felt her shake under his hands. And when he felt the tremors quake through her stomach and down to her calves, he grinned up at her, loving the sight splayed out before him.

She hoisted herself up on her elbows and watched him with hooded eyes as he lazily freed himself from his jeans. Two seconds later, he thrust his hands underneath that sweet ass and playfully yanked her near the edge of the counter, making her cry out with laughter.

"But what will the neighbors think?" She laughed against his lips as he slipped inside her.

"Fuck the neighbors," he groaned into her ear.

He gripped her hips firmly, digging his fingers into her skin as his hips thrust against her on the counter. As far as he was concerned, this was only the first of many rooms in their new house that needed to be christened. Might as well start now, especially since he was already buried balls deep inside her in the middle of their kitchen.

Her hands were tangled in his hair and as she ground her hips into his lower stomach, he took that as his sign to pick things up a bit. With the stress of the day long behind them now, he pulled out just enough to make her cry out and then thrust back inside her until her head lolled back in ecstasy. Yeah, that was what he wanted to see.

Suddenly, his body paused mid-motion and underneath the sex haze around them and her panting in his ear not to stop, he knew he couldn't move another inch until something very important was cleared up between them.

"What's wrong, baby?" Isabelle panted, leaning back so she could look him in the eye.

His fingers dug into her skin and even though his chest was heaving, he couldn't continue until this was settled.

"I wanna put my crow on you, Iz," he whispered lowly and his heart clenched when her eyes squeezed shut. His hand trailed down to her lower back and stroked the smooth skin he found there. "Right here, babe, so there's no doubt you're mine."

His old lady's lips twitched up until they curved into that sexily sweet smile he loved so much.

"Okay, baby."

He grinned wolfishly and leaned down to press a hard, hungry kiss into her lips. Just as he was about to get back to business, her soft voice stopped him.

"Baby...are you gonna get one too?"

She didn't need to tell him specifically what she was talking about...he knew full well that Opie had a tattoo of his wife's name across his throat. It was the deal Opie and his old lady had made after they graduated high school and after he'd patched in. Since six months had passed after Donna graciously explained to Isabelle what being an old lady meant, he'd been expecting as much when the time came for them to finally have this conversation. It also wasn't lost on him that they were having this conversation with his dick very much still pulsing inside her, so he figured that it was only fitting.

"You didn't even have to ask, babe," he murmured back huskily and brushed his lips against hers, arching his hips to create just enough friction between them to make her moan into his mouth.

"Where?" she panted as she started to get lost in their movements once again. "Maybe the inside of your other arm? Where everyone can see?"

He swallowed tightly and gently pulled her hand towards him until it was resting right over his heart. "I was thinkin' right here. It's yours anyways, Iz. It might as well have your name on it."

His heart twisted in his chest and threatened to burst as he watched her bit down on her trembling bottom lip. Gently brushing a stray tear away from her cheek, he reached out to gather the woman of his dreams in his arms. First things first, he was gonna finish what he started here with her. Then, he was gonna put his crow on this woman. And then, he was gonna make this woman his wife.

* * *

**A/N-The next chapter will skip ahead a few weeks and will start to move this story towards its endgame. In terms of where it's all going, this chapter was pretty important for both this story and the third story in this trilogy. **

**I'm hoping to get another update posted sometime this weekend (maybe sooner if I'm really on my game ;) and I'd really love to hear what you guys thought of this chapter! Thank you again to everyone who's stuck with this; it really keeps me motivated to keep going!**


	6. It Hits The Fan

**A/N-Just a quick note so there's no confusion, this picks up about three weeks or so after the last chapter. **

* * *

Isabelle stared down the pile of paperwork sitting ominously on the desk and squeezed her eyes shut. All she had to do was just make it through this day and then everything could just go back to normal. After being alone in the house for the last four days, the idea of Jax finally coming home sparked anxious butterflies to bounce around her stomach.

Ugh...that wasn't helping either. Between getting their new house in order, working nearly full-time at T-M, juggling summer classes and studio time, she knew she was wearing herself out. It was becoming a struggle just to get out of bed in the morning and if anything, she was grateful Jax had been gone on this latest run for the last few days because he most definitely would have went into overdrive at her current state.

His overprotective alpha-male tendencies had flared exponentially after the break-in and this would only make things worse. While she appreciated his concern, he'd gone a little overboard this time. She glanced up from the desk and smiled sympathetically at the prospect stationed just a few feet away from her. The poor guy had probably gotten less sleep than her these last four days and that was really saying something.

What she really needed, she reasoned, was a few nights of solid, uninterrupted sleep. Jax coming home was sure to put an end to the last few nights she'd tossed and turned in their empty bed. She'd kept reaching for him in her sleep and every time she came up empty, she jerked awake in a panic. One particular sleepless night, after shaking herself out of a bone-chilling nightmare that ended in Jax getting arrested during the run, the prospect had burst into the bedroom with guns blazing. To say it had been difficult getting back to sleep after that was the understatement of the year.

Lack of sleep had seeped its way into just about every aspect of her life at the moment. Everything was suffering-her newest project just wasn't coming together the way she wanted, her stomach was so off-kilter she could barely eat, she was grumpy and irritable all the time, and when she finally got home at night, it was all she could do to just collapse on the couch in a coma. She'd had all these grand plans to finish decorating and unpacking and...that pipe dream had quickly fallen by the wayside.

With a deep exhale, she shifted her attention away from the never ending mountain of paperwork sitting in front of her and dug deep into her purse for some breakfast. Hopefully she'd be able to choke down the breakfast sandwich she'd brought and headed into the garage where the microwave was housed on a makeshift countertop. Just as she hit the start button, she could see Gemma's black Escalade pull into the parking lot and groaned in agony.

Great. She knew exactly how this was going to go. Gemma would sniff out both her mental and physical exhaustion in a nanosecond and launch into a lecture about how she was spreading herself too thin. It would be the same lecture she'd heard for the last week or so. Well-intentioned, sure, but it was really nothing she didn't already know. She loved Gemma; she really did-and with every day that passed, she was becoming more and more like a mother to her, but the last thing she needed right now was yet another reason to stress out. So, all she could do was put on a brave face and smile when Gemma approached her inside the garage.

"Hey, honey," Gemma greeted her. While her tone was warm and friendly, Isabelle could feel her sharp eyes scrutinize her every movement.

Despite her wariness, Isabelle pushed a smile back at her. "Hi, Gemma. I thought you weren't coming in today..."

"Well," Gemma just shrugged nonchalantly. "I figured I'd help you square away everything in the office so you had plenty of time to get yourself home before Jax gets there."

Isabelle smiled genuinely at that and had to bit her lip at the memory of the phone conversation she'd had with Jax the night before. He'd told her, in no uncertain terms, that even though it was typical to head straight to the clubhouse after a run, he and Opie were going home to their old ladies first, while Chibs and Juice headed back to the clubhouse without them. Church could wait, he'd told her. The assertive tone he'd used had just about turned her insides into mush and she'd scrambled to get to the grocery store to come up with something to make for dinner.

He'd told her he wouldn't have a ton of time before he'd have to head to the clubhouse and she was determined to finally provide him with a decent home-cooked meal. Her last few attempts were met with disastrous results and there was no way she was going to be the old lady that couldn't cook her man a good meal. But still...she had to learn how to cook first. Lately, her meals had one of two outcomes: burnt to a crisp or raw on the inside. If things didn't turn around soon, she was going to have to start putting an 'eat at your own risk' sign above every meal she served him. So, she'd went with something moderately safe, spaghetti, and had lifted her mom's old recipe to help her out. Jax hadn't been home in days and he deserved to come home to a nice, edible dinner waiting for him.

"So..." Gemma was saying now with a slightly evil smirk. "What's for dinner tonight, then?"

Isabelle cringed and mentally kicked herself yet again for admitting to her man's mother that she couldn't cook. No one could put a spread together like Gemma and it wasn't like she'd ever imagined she could possibly top his mom's home cooking...still, she would at least like to be able to pull something together that was passable. So far, not so good. And Gemma's attachment issues had reared their ugly head when her eyes had lit up like Christmas at Isabelle's sheepish admission. She would definitely not be making a mistake like that again anytime soon.

"Um...I'm trying my mom's spaghetti sauce recipe," Isabelle replied hesitantly. "It seems pretty simple, not a ton of ingredients either, so hopefully, I shouldn't be able to screw it up too much."

"Well, it's the thought that counts, honey," Gemma reassured he. Isabelle decided to ignore the slightly patronizing tone Gemma had used on her. That was just Gemma and if this was the only thing there was even a hint of competition about, then that was totally fine with her.

Isabelle just sighed wearily and opened up the microwave. The second the aroma of cooked eggs, bacon, and cheese hit her nostrils, her body jerked with nausea like she'd just been slapped. She squeezed her eyes shut as a hand flew up to cover her mouth. Suddenly, her throat felt watery and dry all at the same time, like something horrible was trying to force its way out whether she liked it or not. Her stomach quivered and groaned and swirled around and she had to grip the edge of the microwave to counteract her dizziness.

"Isabelle...you okay?"

She barely even heard Gemma's concerned voice floating around her and then pure instinct took over. Before she knew what was happening, she was sprinting the short distance between the microwave and the community bathroom, flinging the door open in one fluid motion before heaving violently into the toilet. Everything was a little hazy as she crouched over the toilet bowl and it felt like someone had shoved burning coals down her throat. Everything burned. Everything was shaking, her hands, her stomach, her knees. Nothing felt right.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Deep breaths. At least that's what she was trying to tell herself and she leaned wearily against the wall adjacent to the toilet. She tugged a hand through her hair, immediately wishing the toothbrush she kept hidden in the office wasn't so far away.

Gemma was leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed tightly across her chest and was watching her eyebrows crinkled into her forehead.

"This been goin' on long?"

Isabelle shook her head.

Gemma nodded slowly, still deep in thought. "You tired?"

"Yeah."

"How 'bout dizziness?"

Isabelle leaned her head against the wall and let her mind drift back to the last few weeks, when everything had seemed to shift. Yeah, she'd felt dizzy before today. She'd been exhausted...hell, she was still exhausted. But, she'd always just attributed it to her hectic summer schedule and lack of sleep. There wasn't any other explanation. Before today, she hadn't thrown up like this before, at least not just because she opened the microwave and smelled cooked eggs.

"How 'bout your boobs?" Gemma grilled her again. "They sore?"

Isabelle frowned, not understanding what that had anything to do with anything, but appeased her and gingerly nudged her breast with an elbow. Shit, it was kind of sore, but she wasn't supposed to get her period until...oh shit. Oh fucking shit. Motherfucking fuck shit.

Gemma must have seen the imminent panic in her eyes and charged into action. "That's what I thought. Look, I think we both know you're probably pregnant, but let's just find out for sure, okay?"

She could only just nod numbly back. Her mind just couldn't wrap itself around that reality yet.

"Why don't you head back to Jax's dorm and rest a little bit, okay? You look worn to the bone, honey, and I'll take care of everything else."

"But what about..." She couldn't even finish that sentence out loud, let alone think it.

"I'll call Donna, have her stop by the drugstore on her way over here, and then we can find out for sure," Gemma explained soothingly and crouched down to her level enough so that she could place a comforting hand on Isabelle's shoulder.

The time in between walking dazedly across the parking lot to the clubhouse to when Donna promptly arrived with the pregnancy tests in hand passed in one convoluted blur. It was like she was trying and failing to wade through the fog that had seeped into her mind and she'd 'rested' fitfully on the bed in Jax's dorm, unable to get comfortable and unable to feel normal again. Normally, she'd be able to at least take comfort by inhaling Jax's pillow for any remnants of his musky, citrus shampoo, but it had been so long since he'd spent a night here that it was nowhere to be found.

At the fateful knock on the door, Isabelle shot up in Jax's bed and gulped. This was it. This was the moment her entire life could change...and Jax's too. With a deep inhale for strength, she dragged herself off of the bed and flung open the door to meet whatever the universe was waiting to dish out. And as Gemma and Donna waited anxiously outside the bathroom, Isabelle got down to the business of peeing on a stick, or rather, three sticks.

Just to be sure, Gemma had told her with a hint of a smile.

So now, all they could do was sit on the bed in complete silence and wait. There was no point in talking. That would just have to wait until they found out how many lines were going to materialize on those sticks: three or six. Three was good. Six was bad. Or at least, it felt like it might be bad.

The timer on Donna's phone chimed on the endtable, making all three of them jump at the sound. Isabelle just stared ahead at the bathroom, where the three sticks with her pee on them were waiting. Seconds ticked by and she still couldn't breathe. She still couldn't focus.

Gemma rubbed her hands anxiously on her jeans and rose unsteadily from the bed, gesturing with her head towards the bathroom.

"Well," she implored gently. "It's now or never, sweetie."

Somehow, her body forced itself to stand and shuffle into the bathroom with Gemma and Donna right on her heels. Together, they leaned over the sink to peer down at the three sticks lined up on the counter. Isabelle squeezed her eyes, sucked in a breath, and felt that watery feeling slide back up her throat as she peered down to start counting lines.

When she got all the way up to six, the breath flew out of her completely. She was barely cognizant of Gemma and Donna's reactions on either side of her, but she vaguely registered Gemma covering her mouth with a finely manicured hand.

This was it. Everything was going to be different now. Nothing was ever going to be the same again. She'd woken up this morning feeling off, but never once had the possibility that it could be anything other than exhaustion crossed her mind. The reality just wasn't even close to the realm of possibility for her, but here it was. Everything had changed.

She shuffled aimlessly backwards until her back hit the wall as her heart stuttered violently in her chest. There were too many emotions bouncing around in the tornado inside her head to reach out and grab one at a time.

She was pregnant.

She was having a baby.

Oh God.

Oh shit.

Holy mother of fucking shit.

"Oh shit, she's starting to freak out."

Isabelle gazed up numbly to see Gemma and Donna hovering over her, each with their own special brand of worry and concern written across their faces.

"Isabelle," Donna peered down at her with a reassuring smile. "Just take a deep breath. This isn't the end of the world. Everything's gonna be fine, okay?"

Panic crept up through her throat and tightened its grip on her. This wasn't okay. Not even close. They were too young. They had no business being parents right now, at least not by choice. She wasn't ready. Jax wasn't ready. This was too soon...they'd literally just moved in together a few weeks before. She'd just gotten inked with Jax's crow shortly after that and it wasn't like they were engaged or anything. This was all happening at breakneck speed and she wasn't sure if she'd be able to keep up.

"It's too soon," she choked out and shook her head furiously. "I'm not ready for this. I don't know what to do...I don't know what Jax is gonna do. He doesn't need this right now...I don't need this right now...we're too young...what the hell are we gonna do?"

Gemma gritted her teeth and hitched a hand on her hip, glinting her heavily-lined dagger-like eyes directly at her. "Isabelle, listen to me. I know the timing isn't so hot; I get that. But you have to know that Jax loves you no matter what, baby. And he's gonna love you through this and anything else life throws at you."

"She's right, Isabelle," Donna added quietly on the other side of her.

Gemma nodded with approval and then turned her attention back to the matter at hand. "I understand what you're feeling...trust me, I really do. I couldn't even walk I was so shocked when I found out I was pregnant with Jax. I was 19 and an idiot and I thought my life was over and that I'd stolen John's right along with it. But John just took everything in stride. He was there for me. He married me. He built a life with me that we lived together until the day he died. So trust me when I say, baby, that Jax is cut from the exact same cloth his father was and know that after the initial shock wears off, he's gonna do the same thing John did."

She paused just for a moment to make sure Isabelle was listening carefully and Isabelle felt like her entire body was on fire.

"Jax is gonna be all in, Isabelle," Gemma went on softly, a gentle smile creeping across her lips as she spoke. "I know my son and I know the only reason he bought a house for you was because he's more serious about you than he's ever been about anything in his life. You're right...maybe it's happening sooner than you thought it would, but it's happening now whether you're ready or not. You two will figure everything out...you just have to give it a little time."

Isabelle exhaled deeply as the tension encircling her started to loosen its hold. Maybe Gemma was right. Underneath the initial mental breakdown was the lingering notion that maybe everything would work itself out. Maybe they wouldn't figure it out right away and maybe they'd both need some time to adjust, but once that happened...maybe everything would be alright again.

She nodded slowly and almost laughed, in spite of the situation, at the way the anxiousness and worry seemed to slide right off Gemma and Donna's faces. The tension in the room quickly evaporated and for the first time since she'd thrown up that morning, Isabelle felt like she could finally breathe.

"So...what do I do know?" It was the first of many questions swirling around, but for now, it seemed like the most imperative one.

"Well, I think we should make you a doctor's appointment and then I think you need to go home, take a nap, and cook Jax dinner like you planned," Gemma suggested warmly. "There's no need to rush into it all tonight."

"Really?" Isabelle frowned. "Shouldn't I tell him when he gets home?"

Donna shrugged. "I don't know...I mean, I waited a week before breaking the news to Ope because I thought he'd freak out more than I did. Of course, it didn't help that I blurted it out in front of the entire garage...but still, I don't think there's anything wrong with giving yourself a day or two to adjust to this before bringing Jax into it. You know, work out how you feel about everything and then you'll be in a better place to have this conversation with Jax."

"And it's been a long four days for both of you. It always takes at least one night before those boys start feeling normal again after comin' home from a run," Gemma asserted. "I'm not sure springing this on him tonight is the best thing for both of you right this second."

"Okay..." she exhaled. "Okay...you're right. You guys are right."

Gemma put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed gently. "Of course we are. So, you spend some quality time with your man tonight, get a good night's sleep, and I think you'll be surprised how different you feel in the morning."

Those words were on auto-repeat in Isabelle's head when she finally threw her keys on the kitchen table and shrugged off her shoes. She waved to the prospect, who had already camped out in front of the TV, as she moved down the hallway towards the bedrooms. The master bedroom was already functioning pretty much like it was supposed to. It wasn't exactly up to par with the image she had in her head, but it was a work in progress. The next bedroom was almost an exact replica of the makeshift studio she'd had at her old apartment and Jax was always careful to respect her space there, using either their small patio in the yard or the garage for his 'man time', as Donna jokingly called it, whenever she retreated to that bedroom to get lost in work.

When she approached the third bedroom, a smile tugged across her face as she leaned in the doorway. While it was currently filled with random boxes-and she still didn't really know what was inside them-in just some short months, this room would be completely transformed. And the more she thought about it, the more she knew Gemma was right. Jax hadn't bought a house, let alone a three-bedroom house, for no reason. He'd bought it because he loved her and wanted to build a life with her.

She was having a baby...Jax's baby. A soft smile spread across her face as a hand drifted down to cover her stomach.

They were starting earlier than she'd ever planned on...but maybe that was sort of okay, too. There were so little surprises left in life and she was starting to embrace this new change. Okay, so maybe she wasn't completely at peace with it, but like Gemma said, everything would probably feel different in the morning.

And besides, the thought of having a good, peaceful night's sleep next to the father of her baby sounded pretty good right about now.

* * *

Jax pulled his bike into the driveway and swung a leg over the side as fast as he could. The entire ride back to Charming had just dragged on with each mile feeling longer than the one before it and he hadn't been able to keep the grin off his face when the "Welcome to Charming" sign came into view. And now, he could finally hold his old lady in his arms...then he would really be home.

Judging from the fatigue he could hear in her voice whenever they'd spoken on the phone, he could tell that this last run had been a hard one for Isabelle. It didn't help that she had taken on way too much this summer and this last week had only reiterated the need for her to slow down. The added stress of the break-in and dealing with all the repercussions of that, especially the insurance part, only added to her stress and while he'd done everything he could to help, there were some aspects of the whole process she'd had to do on her own since her name had been on the lease, not his.

When everything settled down and went back to normal, he made a mental note to sit her down and firmly suggest that she take some shit off her plate. He had a feeling that wasn't going to go so well for him, but sometimes, she just needed to hear it. Maybe tomorrow. When they'd had a night just to relax and unwind after he got back from church...and Jesus, he was looking forward to finally sleeping in his own bed with his old lady right next to him. Tomorrow, he resolved firmly.

As he leapt up onto their front porch, he swung open the door, immediately catching the aroma of Italian spices, tomato sauce, and garlic wafting from the kitchen. Hmm...probably spaghetti. Hopefully, this meal would be a little bit better than Isabelle's last disastrous attempt. She'd tried her hand at chicken, which might have tasted decent if it hadn't been so dry you could hit it with a hammer and it wouldn't budge. He hadn't even been able to cut through the rock hard chicken breast with a steak knife. Needless to say, they'd ordered pizza that night instead.

But at least she was making an effort. He had to give her credit for that and was especially proud that she was still trying. Anyone else might have given up already. But his old lady was determined to learn how to put a decent meal in front of him every night and as long as she was trying, he would too.

And he was hit with yet another reminder of why he was willing to keep at that when he stepped foot in the kitchen. Isabelle was stirring a wooden spoon in a pot on the stove with her hair pulled back into a low ponytail and wearing a white tank top and cropped yoga leggings that hugged her lower body in all the right places. He could stare at that view all day and it wouldn't matter if everything she churned out from the kitchen was shit or not. He'd still eat it as long as that meant he could watch her do this every day.

The wooden spoon clattered to the stovetop as Isabelle launched herself in his outstretched arms and he lifted her up until her legs were completely wrapped around his waist.

Yeah, it was good to be home.

Her hands were tangled in his hair now and then her lips hungrily found his. He didn't waste any time and shoved his tongue through her parted lips, groaning into her mouth at finally getting a taste of her again. It was funny how quickly the little things could be taken for granted like touching and kissing and just getting to see her smile. Four days was too long to be away from her and he was grateful he wasn't on the rotation again for another couple of months. Let someone else have to be away from home...he had everything he needed right here.

"Hey, babe," he murmured against her lips as he gingerly set her back down. He nudged a hand underneath her tank top just enough so that he could splay his fingers over his crow on her lower back, as if to remind himself, that even if he couldn't see it, his name was inked permanently on that soft, beautiful skin.

"Hey, baby," she smiled softly up at him.

It was then that he really got a good look at her face. She was so pale...her eyes were lined with dark, purple circles and she just seemed dead on her feet, like she might topple over right there if he loosened his grip on her. Jesus, maybe they needed to have that talk about her slowing down sooner rather than later.

"Babe...you okay?" he started hesitantly, not wanting to create any unnecessary tension when he'd literally just walked in the door. "Don't take this the wrong way, Iz, but you're not lookin' so good."

Something flashed in her eyes that he couldn't quite place and that only worried him more.

"I, uh, I just haven't been feeling well lately," she pushed on a quick smile and something told him that wasn't the whole story.

"You sure that's it?" he pressed, running a thumb over her sallow cheek. "You just look so tired, babe. You been sleepin' okay?"

A soft grin touched her eyes and that made him feel a little bit better.

"Baby, you know I have a hard time sleeping without you," she reminded him tenderly.

"I know, Iz," he grinned down at her and pressed a quick kiss on her forehead to check if it was warm. "Me too, babe; me too. So...you sure that's it? You're okay?"

"I will be, Jax. I think I just need a good night's sleep, you know? I don't know about you, but I am really looking forward to snuggling with you tonight."

Some of the color had returned to her cheeks and that definitely helped to chip away a good chunk of his initial concern.

"I think that can be arranged," he murmured against her lips. "Hey, do I have a few minutes before dinner's done so I can shower real quick?"

Isabelle glanced at the timer on the stove and dipped her head to peer into the oven at the garlic bread. "Well, it doesn't look burned yet, so I'd say you got a little time."

Jax laughed and tried to hide the way his eyes darted warily to the stove. "I'm sure it'll be fine, babe. It smells pretty good...so that's somethin', right?"

"Fingers crossed," she cringed.

He was still chuckling when he headed down the hallway and nodded to the prospect, who was still stationed on the couch. Jax clapped him on the shoulder and gestured with his head towards the front door, signaling for him to get the hell out of his house. While he was grateful Isabelle had had protection with her in his absence, prospects still needed to be kept in their place and he needed some time alone with his old lady before he had to head over to the clubhouse for church.

When he finally stepped into the steam, all the tension from the last four days worked itself free from his body. Having Isabelle in his arms had helped, but then again, something was clearly off about her. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he could just feel it the second he'd gotten a good look at her. That was just one more thing to add to his list of things they needed to talk about tomorrow.

The bathroom door creaked open and he heard some shuffling on the tile, followed by a blonde ponytail that was getting a clean towel for him from the linen closet. God, he'd missed her. That wasn't even close to being an accurate description of what he'd felt when he was gone. Now he understood why Opie dreaded runs, why he got so agitated before and during his time away from Donna. He got that shit now. Because he didn't want to be less than within reaching distance of her for any longer than necessary. And when he saw the outline of her figure sit down on the toilet seat through the glass to wait for him, he knew it was time to put that ring on her finger once and for all. Shit, it was all happening so fast...but, he just couldn't help it. He needed her anyway he could have her. He needed all of her. He just was just going to have to man up and sit down with her dad then. One more, albeit very important, thing to add to his ever-expanding to-do list for the upcoming days.

He stepped out of the shower and gratefully took the towel from her, wiping himself off as he approached her. A dreamy smile crept up across her lips as she lightly traced the space on his left pectoral, where her name was written in ink. He wound his fingers around hers and pulled them up so he could brush his lips against her knuckles.

"I missed you, Jax," she whispered hoarsely. "So much...nothing's been right without you here, baby."

"I know, Iz, but I'm here now, right? Hey, speaking of that, you workin' at T-M tomorrow?"

"No...Gemma gave me the day off."

The second those words left her lips, her eyes widened for just a split second before pressing on a half-hearted smile. He didn't quite know what to make of that reaction and hoped that after they talked everything through, he'd have a better handle on what the hell was up with her.

"Alright, well," he pressed on despite the uneasiness slipping down his throat. "I got some shit to take care of at T-M in the morning, but after that, there're some things I need to run by you...maybe during lunch? I'll take ya wherever you wanna go, babe...just say the word."

"Okay," she smiled softly and that rosy glow he loved so much about her seeped back into her cheeks. "That's works, baby, because I need to talk to you about something, too. Lunch sounds perfect."

He leaned down to press a quick kiss into her lips, relieved that they'd be able to hash out whatever it was they needed to talk about tomorrow.

* * *

Isabelle groaned and rolled over on her side to reach aimlessly for her buzzing phone. Squinting at the screen with one eye open, the first thing she noticed was that less than an hour had passed since Jax left for the clubhouse and that that was only how long she'd been passed out on the couch. The second thing she noticed was that Charming PD was on her caller id. With a jolt, she shot up on the couch and immediately flipped open her prepay.

"Hello?"

"Isabelle?"

She vaguely recognized the voice of Chief Unser and frowned into the phone.

"Yeah? Chief Unser? What's going on?"

"I just wanted to let you know that your friend, Becca Ullmer, was just brought in to the precinct. From what I could find out, she was arrested at the Hairy Dog a little while ago with cocaine in her possession and she told me not to call Juice, but she's gonna need someone to come bail her out."

Wait...what? Everything seemed to come to a complete stop as she fell back against the couch.

"What?" she sputtered. "I don't understand..."

"I wish I could tell you more, but that's all I got for now. I'm tryin' to get some more information but she's still in lock-up, so I haven't been able to get the whole story."

Her blood turned to ice at last piece of detail. _Oh God, Becca_, she thought helplessly, _what are you doing?_ She had to pull it together long enough to figure out what the hell to do here. Unser clearly hadn't called Juice yet, so maybe she had some time to get to Becca and snap her out of whatever the fuck was going on with her before she did something stupid.

_Unless_, a tiny, dark voice whispered, _she already has._

"Okay," Isabelle exhaled quickly, knowing she only had a short window of time to act fast. "I'll be right there. You're right...you shouldn't call Juice, as least not yet. Things haven't been going so good between them and I don't know if he'd even come down anyways."

The lie rolled right off her tongue too easily, but she didn't know what else to do. She didn't know what was going on here and...cocaine? What the hell was Becca thinking? What the hell had she been doing? This wasn't her best friend. This wasn't the person she'd grown up with, went to kindergarten with, and told all her deepest darkest secrets to, who'd held her hand through her mom's funeral, and hadn't judged her when she dropped out of Stanford, like everyone else in her life at the time had. But...then again, Becca had been basically MIA since the ATF showed up, minus the one phone call she'd gotten the day of the break in. Becca hadn't left a voicemail and even though Isabelle had tried on numerous occasions to get a hold of her, she'd never been able to connect.

Suddenly, it all snapped into place. The jitteriness. The darting, unfocused eyes. The way she kept looking over her shoulder like she thought someone was watching her. The last time they'd been together at the clubhouse, Becca had made frequent trips to the bathroom...and she clearly remembered the almost hyperactive way Becca had spoken when she came back...oh God. No...this was exactly the kind of thing the ATF could exploit to their advantage, to get what they wanted. This was exactly the kind of thing those goddamn agents were looking for to use against them. Maybe, if she worked fast, she could get Becca out of there before the ATF got to her. She hadn't heard from or seen either of those agents since they'd pulled her, Donna, and Becca into the precinct. Maybe they weren't even here anymore. Maybe...she could get all of this squared away before any real damage was done, before anyone in the club got wind of this. Becca would have to answer for the drug charges, but if she was lucky, that might be it.

Because if the club was brought into this mess before she had a chance to figure what Becca did or didn't do, it wouldn't matter...Becca was dead. At least, she'd be as good as dead. And, even though she felt torn in half right now, she just couldn't turn Becca over without knowing for sure. What if she was wrong? What if Becca hadn't done anything? That blood would be on her hands too...and she'd never be able to live with herself if she sent her best friend since she was five to her death without getting all the facts. Without knowing for sure.

She had to know for sure.

A lump clotted her throat as she picked her phone back up to text Jax. Nothing about this situation sat well with her, but she didn't know what other real options she had. If she let Jax know what was going on, the club would jump to into action, and then it would be all over with. If she called Gemma or Donna, they would just tell her to get her ass to the clubhouse. Hell, Gemma would probably beat her there.

If there was a way to save Becca...she had to try. She had to hope that she was getting this worked up over nothing. That it would turn out to be nothing.

So, her fingers flew over the keys on her phone and with a heavy heart, she hit send on the message: Hey baby, not feeling well, im gonna run to the store for some meds. See u when i get home, love u.

There. She knew if he was still in church, he wouldn't get the message until after. But at least, if he beat her home, hopefully that would lessen the initial interrogation when she finally got out of the precinct and back home. And as she sprinted out to the garage, she felt like she was going to throw up for the second time today.

She sped through the streets, her mind racing almost as fast as her Trans Am, only slowing down long enough to pull into a parking spot at the precinct. After rushing through the front doors, her eyes darted around anxiously for Unser or Officer Hale or anyone that could help her find Becca. She skidded to a halt when she caught sight of Unser and he was talking to...Agent Jordan. Shit. No...was she already too late?

Agent Jordan's eyes flicked up above Unser's head and her entire body froze as she watched his expression shift from startled to concerned...and then his eyes seemed to glaze over with a darkness that made her blood run cold.

"Isabelle?" He called over to her and somehow, her feet became unglued from the floor and she started moving towards them, grateful that Unser could act as a buffer between them. "What are you doing here?"

"I called her," Unser stated pointedly. "I thought Becca might need someone to bail her out tonight."

Jordan's eyes flew to Unser in disbelief and Isabelle thought she might lose her spaghetti dinner all over the precinct floor. Judging by the way Jordan seemed to be flinging daggers at Unser with his black eyes, her showing up at the precinct like this had thrown a wrench into...something. That something was what she needed figure out immediately.

"So...can I see her? Is she okay?" She implored quickly, knowing she needed to jump to the matter at hand.

"Just...uh," Jordan mumbled and held up a finger as he peeked into the room they were standing in front of. "Just give me a second."

He disappeared inside the room and Isabelle strained to get a look inside before the door closed behind him. She could just barely make out Becca's dark-haired head sitting at a table that was very similar to the one she'd sat at weeks before when Agent Jordan had mercilessly interrogated her.

"What's going on?" Isabelle turned to Unser, who just shrugged.

"I don't know," Unser muttered under his breath, his eyes trained suspiciously on the door in front of them. "All I know is that she was busted at the Hairy Dog with about three 8 balls worth of cocaine."

Oh shit. Even she knew that was a lot.

"Do you think she...?"

Unser shook his head slightly and chewed on his bottom lip pensively. "That's what I'm tryin' to put together."

Moments later, Jordan stepped out with Agent Stahl right on his heels. Both had steeled themselves expressionless and Jordan motioned stoicly with his head towards the door.

"You can go in and see her now. Five minutes," he instructed quietly.

Isabelle nodded soberly and walked through the door. The second their eyes met, Becca's face crumpled and she squeezed her eyes shut. When her best friend opened her somber brown eyes again, fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. Isabelle slowly sank into the chair across from her and felt her heart thundering in her chest.

They stared at each other in silence and the longer they sat there, the more Isabelle knew that everything she'd just done, lying to the chief of police, lying to Jax...it had all been in vain. The hollowness and dark circles around Becca's eyes, her pale cheeks, the way she was nervously chewing on her bottom lip...guilt was written all over her face.

"You told them something, didn't you?"

Becca's eyes widened and another tear slipped down her cheeks.

"What did they offer you?"

She was shaking with anger now and Becca's eyes flashed in alarm as she shifted nervously in her chair.

Becca's eyes darted down to the table as she whispered: "I'm...I'm not supposed to tell you anything."

Isabelle's eyes narrowed dangerously. So, it had all but been confirmed. Her best friend...a fucking traitor.

"Let me guess," Isabelle spat furiously. "They offered you immunity or some shit like that, right? Drug charges off the table now, right? All you had to do was fucking rat, right?"

"It's...you...you don't understand, Belle," Becca stammered. "They said I was gonna go to prison. I can't go to prison...they said I could go away for the maximum sentence. That's fifteen years, Belle! I can't..."

Isabelle felt her lips curl up into a snarl and fought back the urge to lunge forward and strangle her former best friend until her double-crossing, lying face turned blue.

"Oh, okay," she shot back icily. "Sure, right, because you're the only one with something to lose, right? You know what, fuck you, Becca. Fuck you!"

"I'm so sorry," Becca sobbed uncontrollably. "I'm so...I'm so sorry...I didn't know what else to do...they knew everything, they followed me, they had pictures of me buying...you know. There was no other way out of it...I'm so sorry."

Something clicked and Isabelle stared back at her in panicked disbelief. "Wait...what? What do you mean they had pictures? I thought they arrested you today at the Hairy Dog..."

Becca shook in her chair and her turned into into a sick, pallid white. "I...I'm not supposed to tell you anything or..."

"They'll take away your deal, won't they?" Isabelle finished for her as she shook her head in disgust. Then she leaned forward, unable to believe the words that were about to come out of her mouth. "You gave them something that day at the precinct, didn't you? When they first picked all of us up? They knew then...they had you even then. What the fuck did you tell them?"

"I...I didn't know anything then...I had to come back with something."

"Becca," Isabelle pleaded desperately. "What did you give them? Please...is Jax...did you give them something about Jax?"

Becca's jaw trembled and as she sucked in a shaky, stunted breath, all the warmth in Isabelle's body rushed out in one wave of terror.

"I...think so."

"What do you mean, you think so? What about Juice? Did you fucking give him up too?"

"I think so...they needed something, Belle. Anything...so I hacked into Juice's computer so I could figure out where the warehouse was."

Isabelle could barely even breathe, let alone understand what she was hearing. Who the hell was this person?

Becca must've seen the horror in her eyes because she quickly jumped to reach out to her. "I could've given them more, Belle, but I didn't. I had to give them something but it wasn't anything that would get anyone put away for very long...but if I didn't give them something, they were gonna throw me in prison, Belle!"

"Like that's supposed to make me feel better?" Isabelle snapped. "Well, congratulations, Becca. You're officially a fucking, selfish rat. Great fucking job."

"Belle..."

"Why didn't to you tell me? I could've helped you...Jesus, I was trying to help you when I came here tonight. We could've gotten you away from Charming and away from the ATF-if you would've just told somebody what they wanted from you..."

"They'd kill me, Belle...you know that; you know they would've killed me!" Becca cried. "I tried...I called you and I just didn't know what to do. I didn't think I had a choice..."

"There's always a choice," Isabelle spat back darkly. "You had a choice and you chose wrong. The ATF got enough now to put them away, didn't they?"

Becca nodded sadly and just squeezed her eyes shut as another tear fell down her cheek. That only served to enrage Isabelle even more.

"I'm pregnant."

Becca's eyes flashed back up to her and her entire body seemed to crumple in her chair at this new information. Isabelle didn't care how horrible she felt or how much guilt she was feeling right now. That bitch deserved it and she'd needed to hear this so she would understand exactly what she'd done.

"I'm pregnant," Isabelle repeated quietly. "And you just sent the father of my baby to prison."

A hand flew up to cover Becca's mouth and now she was trembling as she stared back at Isabelle with what appeared to be regret and remorse. Not like Isabelle would ever make the mistake of believing her ever again.

"I'm so sorry, Belle...I'm so, so sorry."

Isabelle just shook her head as she shoved out of her chair. "I don't really care, Becca. Have fun in witness protection, you fucking bitch."

With that, she turned her back on her former best friend, the person she'd shared so much of her life with, the person who'd been there for her through thick and thin, the person who'd always stood by her, who'd been her shoulder to cry on, and the very same person who'd just committed the most heinous of betrayals and slammed the door behind her.

She walked down the hallway and stared numbly ahead of her, vaguely aware that Unser was on the phone. The way he was covering the receiver up with his hand and glancing around anxiously told her that he must've put two and two together around the same time she did and was currently bringing the club up to speed. Her chest began to heave, though, when she realized that Jordan and Stahl were nowhere to be found. They hadn't gone back inside the room with Becca.

She swallowed tightly and pressed forward until she was out the door and sitting inside the Trans Am. Her fingers furiously dialed Jax's prepay, but was just met with the voicemail recording and then her head fell into the steering wheel as her shoulders shook with sobs. This couldn't be happening. She didn't know all of the details, she didn't know exactly what the ATF had, but she knew it wasn't good. If the ATF knew where the warehouse was though, they could've easily tracked this last run from start to finish...and Jax...they'd have more than enough evidence against him, and Opie, Chibs, and Juice, too.

Her hand crept down to protectively cover her stomach as she tried to call Jax one more time. _Please pick up,_ she pleaded silently, _please_...she just needed to hear his voice. But when she got the voicemail again, she abruptly threw her phone onto the passenger seat and squeezed her eyes shut.

Her eyes flew down to her stomach and another flood of tears streamed down her cheeks. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be her life...while everything was altered earlier today, she'd been just starting to come around, to be happy, to be excited, to be ready to share this with Jax. And now, all the happiness and excitement and possibility had just been snatched away before she'd even really gotten a taste of it.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered to her stomach. "I'm so sorry..."

* * *

**A/N-The next chapter will go into more details about what exactly the ATF have and what that means for the club, Jax, Opie, Chibs, and Juice, especially. I know you guys are probably freaking out right now, so I'm going to do my best to get the next update up as soon as humanly possible. The title of this chapter just about sums it up and a lot of you had already called that Becca was up to something. Now, we'll know exactly what that was and given Isabelle's between-a-rock-and-hard-place situation, hopefully, no one will be too upset with her ultimate decision to try to help her best friend before it was too late (even though, as we know, it already was). The repercussions of _that_ will also have to be dealt with in the next chapter as it won't take Jax long to make certain assumptions about what she was doing at the precinct, let alone lying about it. And unfortunately, it's just all gonna keep going downhill from here.**

**Also, I have a little bit of fun news: I recently set up a blog this past week to keep all my media/information in one spot about this story. If you're wondering how I see Jax and Isabelle (as well as other important characters) in this story, all that is up, along with information about the third story I have planned in this trilogy. If you're curious, you can find out the title, plot description, and cover art for it; if you don't want to be spoiled, that's okay, too ;) So check it out if you're interested. Here's the info: jax and iz dot blog spot dot com. You'll have to type it in your browser (and take out the spaces, insert periods, etc.) because for whatever reason, doesn't let you link to other sites. More information is also on my profile too.**

**Anyways, let me know what you thought of this chapter. I know it was super-long, but some major stuff went down, right? I always love hearing your feedback/comments/predictions. Thanks again (and sorry for the long-winded AN). **


	7. Appeal

Jax leaned his head up against the cold, iron bars and blew out an agitated breath. This shit was taking too long...where was Unser? Where the hell was Rosen? They should've been here by now and he didn't know how much longer he could stand being caged in here like an animal. He cast a sideways glance behind him and found Opie in the exact same place he'd seen him last, sitting on one of the tiny cots with his head in his hands. Chibs and Juice weren't far away...they couldn't be given their tight quarters.

Two hours. They'd already been sitting here for two hours. Two hours since Clay had gotten the call from Unser that the ATF were on their way. Two hours since he, Opie, Chibs, and Juice were arrested. They'd barely had any time to react, with little warning, and as church was letting out, he'd retrieved his phone to find a text message from Isabelle. He didn't even want to think about what she must be feeling right now...if she wasn't feeling well before...shit. All he could do was slam his head right back into the bars keeping him in this cage.

All other options had currently been taken away from him.

It hadn't taken anyone in the club long to put together that someone had obviously ratted. Whether it was anyone connected to the club or otherwise had yet to be seen. If he was a betting man, he'd put his entire life savings on one person: Becca. After the girls were initially brought in weeks ago, there was little doubt in anyone's mind that if any of the three could potentially be a threat, it would be Becca. Juice had been instructed to keep his woman on a tight leash in addition to keeping a tail on her ass at all times and a tap on her phone. Although Juice had been shaken to the core at learning Becca's dirty little secret, Jax was less than surprised. The girl had always been a flake and a complete idiot, even in high school, and from everything he'd heard and seen of her, she was exactly the kind of girl that would get herself into a mess like this.

Needless to say, he'd been more than relieved that Becca had made herself scarce these last weeks, which had only made her look more suspicious. But it also meant she was staying the hell away from his old lady too...the more distance that was between them, the better. Part of him wondered-if this really was Becca-if they should've told a few old ladies, Isabelle and Gemma especially, about their suspicions. They might have been able to catch a whiff of something that was beyond their immediate reach...but it was a club vote and the club had decided they were better off keeping it under wraps so Becca didn't get wind of their suspicion.

And if Becca had ratted...how the fuck had she pulled off the ultimate sneak attack? He'd sat here for two hours and had yet to come up with any feasible explanation. Was she some sort of mad genius or idiot savant or something? If it was true, go figure that the least intelligent person connected to Samcro was also, somehow, the most resourceful.

But now, with them sitting here in lock-up, none of that shit mattered. Because the ATF had enough on them to arrest them for 'the illegal transfer of guns', as that asshole Jordan had snidely spat in his face as he shoved his hands behind his back.

Which meant they were completely fucked.

He cast a sympathetic glance back at Juice and could only imagine the level of humiliation and betrayal he had to be feeling right now. It really was the ultimate deception in this life and one that could never be pardoned. If Becca was the ATF's informant, than she'd better hope and pray witness protection was part of her deal. Because if it wasn't, he would enjoy every second of watching Juice put a bullet in her head. And if Juice couldn't do it, he'd gladly step in and take over.

"What the hell is takin' so long?" Opie spat from the small cot and ran his hands through his overly-long hair.

"I don't know, dude," Juice called back to him.

Jax turned to face them and leaned against the bars, folding his arms across his chest. "Rosen's probably still talkin' to Unser, tryin' to figure out what the hell they have on us."

Opie grimaced and sunk even deeper into the cot. "I can't believe this shit...everything was finally goin' good for us, you know? Me and Don, I thought we had everything figured out."

Jax ran a hand over his face and stared down at the cement at his feet. Life had a shitty way of giving you a taste of something good and then snatching it right away. Even though Ope had a hell of a lot to leave behind, at least he could consolation in the fact that his old lady was also his wife and the mother of his daughter.

"Hey, bro," Jax pushed off the bars and shuffled the short distance between himself and the cot, sinking down next to his best friend. "Everything's gonna be alright, Ope. We'll get this shit sorted out and…"

"Come on, Jax," Opie cut in roughly. "That's bullshit...they got us and you know it. That means we're doin' at least a year if we're lucky."

He just chewed absentmindedly on his bottom lip and swallowed tightly. Of all the things running through his mind since the second those iron bars closed behind them, the reality of doing real time had been compartmentalized into an inaccessible part of his brain. He just couldn't go there yet.

"Look, Ope, we don't know exactly what they have...maybe Rosen will be able to get-"

"Don't even bother, Jax," Opie jumped in and just dropped his head into his hands. "That's a year of my kid's life...fuck…she'll be walkin' and talkin' and I won't get to see any of it..."

All he could do was a clap a hand on Opie's shoulder. There was nothing he could ever say or do that would make this better...for any of them. The most time he'd ever done was one month and while it wasn't exactly the Holiday Inn, that was for sure, the idea of having to be locked up in Stockton for a year wasn't something he could wrap his head around. One month had been trying enough...but a year? His heart was already torn in half for his best friend and now, it was crumbling. Leaving Isabelle for four days had practically turned him into a zombie. Leaving Isabelle for year...he didn't know if he'd survive it. Or if she would either.

He just wished he'd had a chance to check on her before the fucking ATF showed up. When he'd left their house just a few hours before, she was already curled up on the couch with her eyes drooping shut. Even as he'd dipped over the side of the couch to kiss her goodbye, she'd barely stirred with a sleepy smile. She'd just looked so dead on her feet…he could only imagine what she had to be feeling now.

All four jumped to their feet when the heavy metal door separating the cells and the rest of the precinct clanged open with a boom. Unser was the first one down the narrow hallway with the club's lawyer, Rosen, right on his heels.

"Hey boys," Unser called out to them tiredly. "Bail's been set, but it's gonna take Clay and Gemma some time to get everything together. We're gonna move you to County until bail comes through."

"Fuck me," Chibs exhaled and Opie just rubbed a hand over his mouth.

"Okay…" Jax sprung into action, desperately trying to keep this floundering ship from sinking altogether. "How long will that take?"

"A few days maybe," Unser shrugged.

"Look," Rosen started as he approached the bars. "It could be less, but it's protocol on charges like this, so there's not much we can do about it until bail has been processed."

"What about the ATF?" Opie pushed out roughly. "How much do they have?"

Even though Rosen did his best at masking the quick grimace that flashed across his face, Jax didn't miss it. Whatever they had wasn't good.

"The ATF, naturally, have no intention of disclosing how they got their information, but they somehow obtained the location of your warehouse."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Juice exhaled and leaned down into the bars for support.

Rosen nodded dejectedly and Jax figured it was probably because he knew his services were all but a lost cause for them.

"Apparently," Rosen continued calmly. "The ATF has ample evidence-mainly surveillance photos and video-of the four of you coming and going from the warehouse with a shipment of guns as well as evidence of the transfer that took place this week. The Mayans you met and made the exchange with have already been transferred to County for holding. You most likely would've been brought in sooner but there was a…" Rosen glanced quickly at Unser as he spoke. "Sensitive matter the ATF had to deal with first."

"So how much time are we lookin' at?" Opie pressed, his shoulders hunched with ragged tension.

Rosen's shoulders lifted with a quick shake of his head. "Given the evidence, I'm not sure there's a whole lot of room to argue here, gentlemen. I'm not saying I won't do everything I can to get the sentence reduced to as little time as possible, but I'd say it'll most likely be 9-12 months, maybe less with parole."

Jax felt like all the wind had been knocked out of him with a sledgehammer. He'd been prepared to hear they were looking at some time and up until that moment, he'd managed to hold on to some shred of hope. But all that was shattered now. The reality of real time in Stockton flooded his senses until all that was left was one single, heartbreaking image in his mind: Isabelle.

"That's what I know right now," Rosen continued quietly. "I'm going to head over to the clubhouse and see where everything is at with bail. They're having some trouble coming up with enough to get all of you out, so I would count on being transferred to County within a few hours. They'll for sure hold you overnight and then after that, it really all depends on how it takes for bail to be processed."

All four Sons nodded solemnly and called out a thank you as Rosen took his leave. Unser watched him go as he rested his hands up against the bars and finally turned back to them with genuine remorse written all over his lined and tired face.

For a moment, no one spoke as the dust finally began to settle.

And then Juice called out sadly from behind Jax: "It was Becca...wasn't it?"

Unser ran a hand over his face and just nodded simply in response.

"Jesus...how the hell did she do it? I was so fuckin' careful...I watched her every damn move!" Juice spat angrily.

"I don't know," Unser shrugged wearily. "That's what I've been tryin' to work out. All I was able to get from those jerk-offs was that she made a deal with them back when they first brought in the girls...I guess they already knew she had a drug problem and threatened the maximum sentence if she didn't give them something. How she found out where the warehouse was is beyond me...but she was brought in earlier today. Got busted at the Hairy Dog with over three 8-balls worth of coke on her."

"So that's what held the ATF up then," Opie surmised bitterly.

"I'm thinkin' so," Unser nodded sadly. "The Feds always gotta protect their witnesses and I'm assumin' they wanted to get her transferred to a safe house or somethin' like that before you got wind of what was goin' on. If I'd known what the ATF was gonna pull, I would've called you as soon as she was brought in...but I thought it was just your standard, dumbass drug charges."

"That's alright, man," Jax told him with a sigh. "You did what you could."

"I just wish I hadn't brought your old lady into all this shit, Jax...I'm sorry about that...I really am."

Jax felt his blood run cold as those words slowly sank in. That just didn't make any sense. Isabelle's text message hadn't mentioned anything about going down to the precinct because her best friend had been arrested for drug charges. Why didn't she tell him? Why did she fucking lie to him?

"She didn't look so good when she came in tonight," Unser went on, completely oblivious to the fact that Jax had turned to stone. "And I know all this shit isn't helpin...not like it did any good anyways."

"What the hell are you talkin' about?"

He could feel his chest beginning to heave, but his mind was too clouded with confusion, unable to completely grasp what was happening here.

Recognition dawned in Unser's eyes as he realized his error and quickly jumped to explain. But as far as Jax was concerned, there was nothing to explain. She'd lied to him. She'd fucking lied.

"When Becca was brought in, she was cryin' and begged me not to call Juice...said somethin' about how he was never gonna forgive her-I get what she meant now, but I didn't know what to do and figured she was gonna need someone to bail her out and so I called Isabelle. Jesus, you know, now that I think of it, Isabelle told me not to call Juice too..."

Jax just shook his head and backpedalled until his calves hit the thin cot behind him. He sank down with his head in hands, barely aware that Unser called out one last apology before leaving, barely aware of Opie sinking down next to him, barely aware of just about anything. His mind was just completely blank.

"What's goin' on, brother?" Opie murmured quietly from his right.

Jax stared blankly at the cement wall in front of him and blew out an agitated exhale. "I don't know, bro."

"Do you think she…" Opie couldn't even bring himself to finish that sentence and Jax couldn't even think it.

"I don't know, Opie...I don't know what to think…"

* * *

The clubhouse was nearly deadly silent as the club, minus four Sons, Gemma, Donna, and Isabelle sat around the bar, trying to make sense of how the hell this had happened and how they were going to get all four of them out as soon as possible. Isabelle squeezed Donna's hand for strength and was grateful when she felt a squeeze right back. She glanced at Ellie, who was nestled into her mother's neck, and felt her heart constrict into a tight knot.

When Rosen pushed through the clubhouse's main entry, everyone leapt to their feet. She could feel her chest tightening in anticipation and couldn't stop the slight tremble in her hands as her left hand instinctively rested against her stomach. While Gemma had told her to prepare herself for Jax to do some time, she was still clinging to a tiny shred of hope that somehow, some way, this would all end up okay. She couldn't allow herself to think realistically right now. Realism wasn't going to help her.

"What's the news, Rosen?" Clay started in immediately, speaking for everyone inside the clubhouse.

Isabelle listened with a hand against her mouth and the other still resting on her stomach as Rosen delved into the details behind the arrest. God...Becca...how could she have done this? How could she have sold them all out like that? Part of her had tried to put herself in Becca's shoes, to understand the desperation and the self-preservation, but she'd just come up short. There was no excusing this. And when Rosen uttered the words 9-12 months, there was no stopping the stream of tears that fell from her cheeks.

She sucked in a deep breath, barely aware that Donna was crying softly next to her as she cradled her daughter against her, barely aware that Gemma was watching her with tears shining in her eyes. Everything around her was hazy, like a dark cloud had been cast over her life and now, she couldn't see anything at all. The room seemed like it was spinning around her and just as her knees started to give out, she felt a pair of unfamiliar arms shoot out to her steady her.

She blinked once and then stared back blankly at Tig, who was setting her down gently on the barstool behind her, his eyes wide with concern.

"Easy now, girl," he told her soothingly. "Just sit tight, okay?"

She could barely nod as Tig stepped aside to make room for Gemma, whose eyes were brimming with unshed tears. Isabelle leaned into Gemma's warmth, as the only mother figure in her life wrapped her arms tightly around her and then the floodgates opened to release a fresh wave of quiet sobs.

He was going to miss everything. He wasn't going to be able to take her to her doctor appointments and sit with her when they saw their baby for the first time on an ultrasound. He was going to miss their baby's first kick and every movement after that. He wasn't going to be able to help her transform that third bedroom into a nursery. She was going to have to give birth to their baby without him there. He wouldn't be there when they brought their baby home from the hospital or for the first night at home or the first bath or the first smile...he was going to miss everything.

Gemma's arms tightened around her, as if she could sense everything Isabelle was feeling right now and while she wanted to take comfort in that, she just couldn't. It wouldn't come. Nothing was ever going to be the same again. Nothing was ever going to be okay again.

The continued discussion of bail money pulled her out of her almost-catatonic stupor and then her mind sprinted into overdrive. Gemma was saying something about already putting the deed down to her and Clay's house...and Donna was nodding, saying she would do the same and she heard Clay's gruff voice push out roughly that the club didn't have enough assets in the bank right now to make up the difference. They needed nearly $100,000 for each Son but that still left almost $150,000 to make up for to get all four of them out.

What assets did she have to get Jax out? She couldn't put down the deed to their house because her name technically wasn't on the paperwork. Handing over the license to her mom's Trans Am wouldn't be enough. What the hell was left? They had to come up with something because she knew none of them were going to leave County unless they were all leaving together.

Suddenly, she remembered.

"I'll talk to my dad," Isabelle blurted out amidst the chaos of voices. "He's gotta have something…"

Gemma put a comforting hand on her shoulder and kindly shook her head. "Sweetie, you don't have to do that. We can figure out something else to get them all out of there."

"No," she told her firmly. "It's alright. Just give me a little time to talk to him, okay?"

Gemma nodded silently and then she was in Jax's truck, heading back to the place that held too many painful memories. All that just had to be pushed back now because she had to focus on the matter at hand. If she could just make him listen, if she could just make him understand, she had to believe that just this once, her dad would finally come through for her.

As her parents' house came into view, she swallowed down any nerves and anxiety that flared up at the sight. It wasn't so much the house itself she was nervous about...it was more so who was waiting for her inside of it. She hadn't called and showing up so randomly might not help her case, but she didn't have any time to waste here. The longer they waited, the longer Jax, Opie, Chibs, and Juice sat in County. Rosen had said they'd probably be there for at least a night, but any longer than that was just going to made an already devastating situation even worse.

When her dad answered the door, she wasn't sure what to expect. Ever since she'd returned to Charming almost a year ago, she'd learned from experience not to expect much from her father. She'd found him in various states of humiliation, depression, and overall disarray, but after his stint in rehab, it was still difficult to trust that any progress he'd made would actually stick. She kept waiting for him to fall off the wagon again and as horrible as that thought made her feel, it had also made her keep her distance. After a year's worth of the anguish of watching him slowly kill himself, it was the only real option she had.

So she was more than a little shocked to find Samuel Martin dressed in rumple-free clothes and clean-shaven, looking more and less healthy. He'd gained a little weight, which made his face fuller and less gaunt, like the last time she'd seen him at her gallery showing. His salt and pepper hair was trimmed down a little and combed back into a neat, professional look. He was actually starting to look like his old self again. And that thought gave her hope.

Her dad's wide eyes stared back at her in disbelief. "Isabelle?"

"Hey Dad, sorry I didn't call but...I really need to talk to you about something."

He nodded immediately and gestured for her to come inside, quickly closing the front door behind her. "What's going on?"

Isabelle's eyes darted around the hallway and into the living room nervously, even more surprised to find the house mostly in order. She chewed on her bottom lip as she pivoted around to face him again. "Maybe we should sit down…"

"Okay, honey," his voice was tender, with just a hint of concern and he led her down the hall and into the kitchen, motioning for her to sit at the table. "Do you need anything to drink or to eat…?"

She smiled faintly at the gesture and appreciated the effort. But that wasn't what she was here for.

"Umm...no, I'm fine, but thanks though." She waited for him to take the seat across from her before taking a deep breath and releasing it all in one big exhale. "Jax was arrested today."

She couldn't quite pin down the range of emotions that splayed across her dad's face at the moment. There was the flash of shock and disbelief, which ebbed into frustration, which gave way to anger and then something else that she couldn't place.

He ran a hand over his face and sighed. "Guns?"

She nodded with a tight swallow, desperately trying to keep yet another round of tears at bay.

"How long?"

"The club's lawyer said it'll probably be 9-12 months."

Now her dad's lips were set in a tight, thin line and she knew exactly what that meant. "Isabelle…"

"Dad," she cut in quickly. "Please, don't...I know you're gonna tell me I never should've gotten involved with him and that this was bound to happen. I don't need the lecture, okay? That's the last thing I need right now."

He just stared down at his hands before calling out: "What do you need then?"

"We're having trouble coming up with bail for all four of them. Gemma and Clay and Donna put down the deed to their houses, but that's still not enough to get all of them out together."

"Right," her dad spat bitterly. "Because they're all about the brotherhood, aren't they?"

Isabelle sucked in a shaky breath. "I need your help, Dad."

His mouth twisted painfully and she could see the wheels in his head turning. "So you want me to put down the deed to the house too, is that it?"

"Dad…"

"That's asking an awful lot, Isabelle...you know that, don't you? I understand he's your boyfriend, but, Jesus, Isabelle, he's a goddamn criminal! He deserves to sit his ass in jail! And what...you're just gonna sit around and wait for him, aren't you? I thought you were smarter than that, Isabelle...I thought you knew better than this."

She winced violently and when she forced her eyes open again, she was met with her dad's enraged, red face. Who the hell did he think he was? He had no fucking right to speak to her this way...to talk about Jax that way, not after everything he'd put her through.

"You would think that about him," she nodded furiously. "But maybe you need to be reminded how many times Jax was there, at those bars with me, picking your drunk ass off the floor and practically carrying you into the house."

He sat stiffly across from her and she felt zero remorse at bringing up his shame. They'd needed to hash this out ever since Christmas and they were fucking doing it now.

"Every time you called me because you were so drunk you could barely even speak," she went on, her voice cracking with a painful mixture of rage and pain. "He was there, Dad. I never even had to ask him and he was there for me...and for you, too. He stayed with me even after we had to put you into bed like you were a fucking child because he was worried about me being alone with you and he had every right to be, didn't he? Because we both know what happened...and he was still there, Dad."

His eyes had glazed over now and she didn't know how to read him, if she was getting through to him.

"So maybe you can only see what everyone else in those stupid town sees and that's fine," she pressed on firmly. "But I know better. I know exactly what he does for the club, but deep down, he's not what you think he is. He's a good man...and he tries to do the right thing, he really does. Sometimes, I think he just doesn't know how. And he loves me. And he makes me happy and whenever he gets out, I _am_ going to be waiting for him because I love him too."

She waited as her words sunk in and prayed that maybe he would finally listen to her. But he just sat there across the table, staring blankly down at his folded hands. She had one more card to play and while she didn't exactly like the idea of using this information to manipulate, she didn't see any other options at this point.

So with a deep breath, she looked her father square in the eye and somehow choked out: "Dad, I'm pregnant."

His eyes widened with shock and she could only imagine what was running through his head right now, given that those three words were ones fathers never wanted to hear. When his shoulders sagged, she could see his resolve begin to crumple. It didn't feel right that one more person was finding out before Jax did, but if it made her dad understand, if it made him listen, then it was worth it.

"I've never asked you for anything, Dad," she entreated desperately, tears brimming in her eyes. "But I'm pregnant and he doesn't even know. I haven't even had a chance to talk to him about it yet...please, Dad. Please help me."

When his eyes finally darted back up to hers, the coldness and disappointment had vanished. In their place was sadness, disbelief, and resignation. It was probably as good as she was going to get right now, so she was going to take it.

He rubbed both hands over his face before letting them fall back to the table with a deep, frustrated sigh.

"Alright, Isabelle. What do I need to do?"

With a muffled sob, she shot out of her chair, flew around the table, and threw her arms around the still-stunned, shaken shoulders of her father.

* * *

As the doors closed behind him, Jax stepped out into the sunlight and felt the warmth wash over him. After almost a full 48 hours stuck in County and in limbo, feeling the sun outside of metal bars and fences was a welcome relief. The rest of the club was waiting for them at the end of the fence with an accompaniment of cheers and whistles and so, for now, he could wait to confront the reality settled just in front of him. Their court date for sentencing was in less than three weeks and then instead of County, he, Ope, Chibs, and Juice would be sitting in Stockton. Which meant he had less than three weeks left of freedom...with the reality of doing 9-12 months strangling every second and his every move.

And as he swung his leg around his bike and revved the engine, he knew he would also have to face Isabelle.

If anything, these last 48 hours had given him ample time to think, even if he would've much rather been spending that time at the clubhouse instead of in County. The time had given him clarity and had allowed him to work through every angle of the situation.

What he knew was this: Isabelle had nothing to do with the arrests. She had nothing to do with any of the information the ATF had received from Becca and he knew that up until the day he found himself in handcuffs, she'd had no idea Becca turned against the club. And even though his initial reaction had been to jump to the worst conclusion possible, he knew now, without a doubt, that Isabelle would've never done to him what Becca had done to Juice.

But she'd lied. It was really just a simple lie that, in any other situation, he never would've thought twice about. But it wasn't simple anymore. When Unser had called her, after he was already at the clubhouse, she'd been presented with a choice. And she'd chosen a fucking rat over him, over the club, over the people who were supposed to be her family.

He'd tried to put himself in her place, to imagine what he would've done had their roles been reversed and it was Opie, not Becca, who betrayed the club. He could understand the panic and desperation Isabelle must've felt when she first realized what Becca might have done. He got that. He would've felt the same way and might've made similar moves to protect his own best friend from being at the club's mercy. But if he had to choose between Isabelle and Opie, or anyone else for that matter, he'd choose Isabelle every fucking time.

She'd chosen to protect someone that didn't deserve protection.

Her first reaction should've been to protect him...to let him know what the hell was going on. To put him first. To put the club first. But what had she done? She'd rushed to the precinct when she should've been going to the clubhouse. Fuck rushing to the clubhouse; she should've fucking called. While he knew it wouldn't have changed the inevitable, maybe they would've had more warning. They might have been able to do...something; what, he didn't know.

All he knew was that he should've been his old lady's first priority. Not someone who was a potential threat to the club. Not someone who could've very well sent him to prison-who did send him to prison. Not someone who wasn't him.

While she hadn't given anyone the location of the club's warehouse or anything else the ATF had been after, she'd betrayed him all the same. And that wasn't something he could just sweep under the rug. He couldn't show up at the clubhouse, where he knew she was waiting for him, and act like nothing had happened. Like she hadn't done anything wrong either.

She needed to answer for this. She needed to explain. And she'd better damn well have an airtight explanation.

Just the thought of sleeping next to her tonight, when he should be feeling relieved to be able to hold her in his arms, made him feel sick to his stomach. How could she look him in the eye and tell him she loved him, that she would do anything for him, when she couldn't even do this? She needed to explain why she didn't feel inclined enough to save him before anyone else, even if there was nothing had could've been done to stop it.

He was supposed to be her family. They were supposed to be building a life together. That was the whole fucking point of buying her a house...and a ring. He wanted to give all that to her. He wanted her to be his wife...but she needed to understand that if they did get married, have a family, and a life together, she wasn't just marrying him. She wasn't just taking him into her life for better or worse. It was everything else that came along with his life, too. There was always going to be danger, there was always going to be the possibility that he would land himself in jail again...there would always be a certain risk involved.

And if she didn't _really_ understand that, if she didn't _really_ embrace his family as her family too and everything else that came with the club, then maybe she wasn't really who he thought she was. Maybe he was better off knowing that shit now, before he went to Stockton, than after spending a year in lock-up thinking he had one thing waiting for him when it was really something else entirely.

So when he pulled into T-M's parking lot and tossed his leg over the side of his bike, it was difficult to keep the darkness surrounding him at bay, even as he caught a flash of blonde hair rushing towards him out of the corner of his eye.

Isabelle wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and when he felt her warm, soft lips pressing into his, he wavered for a moment. God, he loved her...he really fucking loved her. Up until almost seven months ago, he'd thought he'd known what love was. But what he'd felt for Tara didn't even come within a marathon's distance of what he felt for Isabelle. She was the other half of his soul. She was the one thing in his life that made sense, that was good, that was untainted by all the other shit in his life. She was the reason he got up in the morning and she was the reason he rushed home at night.

But her loyalty had been tested and until she proved otherwise, she'd failed that test.

She stepped back slowly, like she could already feel the coldness radiating off of him and he could feel her deep blue eyes, swimming with hurt and unshed tears, still on him as his mother stepped around her to pull him into her arms. Even as Gemma released him and glanced worriedly between him and Isabelle, he didn't move his dark, icy gaze away, choosing instead to keep his eyes slicing directly back into his old lady.

When Gemma moved away from him, presumably to give them some space, Isabelle shuffled cautiously back towards him and reached for his face.

His hands snaked up to tear her hands away and he only tightened his grip around her fingers when her eyes widened with alarm.

"Jax…" she whispered timidly and for only a moment, his heart clenched in despair. Seconds later, the moment passed.

"You and me need to talk, Isabelle," he bit out tightly, ignoring the panic flashing across her beautiful eyes. "And we need to do it now."

* * *

**A/N-Hopefully, that didn't create too much anxiety. Thanks to alistensrude for taking a look at this and reassuring me that Jax wasn't coming off as too much of a jerk and that his perspective made sense. He doesn't know all the details or the whole story with what caused Isabelle to make the decision she did in the last chapter, but from his point of view, I think it's in line with his character that he would feel this way and see this as a betrayal of his trust. **

**One of my biggest issues with Tara on the show is that she's always been too much of a doormat and pretty much lets Jax walk all over her, especially in Season 3 (even though it doesn't seem like it's going to be that way in this upcoming season). Anyways, I've tried to create a character that wasn't too tough and bad-ass that she wouldn't be believable, given her background, but that she's still a person who will hold her ground and not allow a man to push her around, literally or figuratively. So with that said, rest assured that Isabelle isn't going to just stand around and let Jax make assumptions. And he will have to grovel. I mean really, really, grovel. Hopefully, everyone will be very happy with how he decides to grovel in the next chapter ;)**

**Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed/favorited/alerted. Your feedback is always amazing and it really keeps me motivated to know you guys are just as invested in this couple as I am. **


	8. Baby Momma Drama

Isabelle followed closely behind Jax as he stalked his way through the clubhouse, past the brief, heavy-hearted celebration that was currently taking place by the bar, and did everything she could to keep her eyes focused on the Reaper stitched on the back of Jax's cut. If she let her eyes dart anywhere else, or more specifically, at anyone else, she might lose it altogether and break down before they even made it to his dorm.

She'd sensed something was wrong almost immediately. The second he'd swung his leg over the side of his bike and stared her down with hard, piercing cloudy eyes, she knew it. She'd never felt so cold...when all she'd wanted to do was just crumble in his arms to make all this pain go away. He'd barely touched her when she'd run up to him; he hadn't kissed her back...he'd just settled that sharp, icy glare on her and all she could do was step back. It was the only defense mechanism she had to deal with this. In all the time she'd known him, with everything they'd been through, he had never, _ever_ looked at her this way. He'd never made her feel this small, this helpless.

And she knew, without a doubt, that this had everything to do with the text message she'd sent him before taking off to the precinct. Before trying and failing to keep Becca from turning on the club. She was prepared to explain. She was prepared to do her best to make him understand. She was not, however, prepared for this kind of intense ferocity charging her way.

When they were finally standing in the privacy of Jax's dorm, he just stood there for a moment with his back still facing her. Like he wasn't quite ready to start whatever it was he wanted to start with her. God, she had so many things to tell him...so many things to explain. She just hoped he'd listen.

He slowly pivoted on his heels and tugged a hand through his ragged, wind-blown blonde hair. After blowing out a deep, exasperated exhale, his hard eyes shot from the carpet up to meet her dead-on. She swallowed tightly from the impact and involuntarily took a small step back.

Suddenly, he dug his fist into his back pocket and pulled out his prepay. She watched, frozen to the carpet, as he flipped it open, scrolled for a few seconds, and then shoved the phone in front of her face. She didn't need to read the text message to know what it was going to say.

"Explain to me what the fuck this is, Isabelle," he spat out darkly and she winced at his second use of her full name in less than five minutes.

She looked down at the ground and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Isabelle," he prompted sharply. "Tell me why you fuckin' lied to me. Tell me why you told me you were goin' to the store when you were really goin' to the precinct."

She could understand his need for a decent explanation. After all, he technically had a point. She _had_ lied. She had been deceptive that night at the precinct and now, she was really regretting ever sending that damn text in the first place. She would have been better off just doing nothing...but at the time, she had no idea the ATF actually had enough to make an arrest. And she'd known that Jax, in his ever-protective alpha way, would've flipped on her anyways for leaving without telling him first, especially given that he'd already seemed suspicious of her health. She really should've put on some bronzer before he came home from the run...maybe then he wouldn't have noticed immediately how pale and tired she was.

But what she didn't like here was his goddamn tone. That accusatory and cutting tone. And now she understood.

"Isabelle…" Jax called out to her and folded his arms across his chest to emphasize his impatience.

"Jax," she started softly, holding her hands out in front of her. "I'm sorry...I know what you're thinking and I-"

His eyes into dangerous slits and he hissed bitterly, "How could you possibly know what I'm thinking?"

"Because I know you and I know the way you think," she shot back and she could feel her anger multiplying by the second. "I know you think I should've called you first or called the clubhouse when Unser called me, but-"

"You're damn fuckin' right!" he roared and she shuddered as his voice rippled around her. "You should've went to me with that shit...you knew the ATF was hovering...you knew they were lookin' for something and your fuckin' bitch of a friend sold us out."

She sucked in a deep breath to calm herself down and to keep herself from lashing out right back. When she was sure she wasn't going to scream at him, she asked him lowly, "Can you please lower your voice?"

Jax's lips curled back into a tight snarl and she fought the urge to reach out and slap it right off his face. "What, babe, you don't have anything else to say? Because I'm right? Because you know you fucked up and know you gotta deal with the consequences?"

Feeling her blood begin to simmer, she took an aggressive step forward so that she was standing merely a foot away from his face. "What are you gonna do, Jax? Hit me? Is that how you're gonna make me deal with the consequences?"

He just laughed bitterly and shook his head, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

"Jax," she pushed out unsteadily and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her voice level. "I was trying to help. I didn't know Becca had already told them anything...but I thought she was going to then and I went there to try to convince her not to do it...to try to stop her."

Jax's eyes flashed darkly. "Let's call this what it really is here: you went there to protect her."

"I was trying to help, Jax!" Her lips were trembling now and her hands were shaking into tight fists at her sides.

"You were trying to help a fucking rat!" he bellowed right in her face.

"I didn't know, Jax...I didn't know," she called out to him desperately. "And if I could go back and do things differently, I'd do it in a heartbeat. But I can't."

"You're right," he nodded tightly. "You can't. You know what really pisses me off about all this shit? When those handcuffs got slapped around my wrists, you know what my first thought was? My first thought was that I couldn't go to prison because I couldn't leave you. Because I didn't want to leave you. And it fucking pisses me off that when you realized what that bitch did-or maybe did-your first thought wasn't about me. It was about someone else."

She swallowed tightly and squeezed her eyes shut. It wasn't like that...there were just too many things she was trying to do all at once that in the end, none of it had mattered anyways.

"You don't understand, Jax," she choked out. "I was trying to protect _both_ of you. I thought if I could stop her, if I could convince her not to say anything, that it would save you too, that you wouldn't end up in jail. And then she would be safe and everything would be okay."

He seemed to waver for just a moment and then that icily familiar darkness clouded his eyes again. "Your first priority should've been me. Your first reaction should've been to think about what this meant for me, not fucking Becca."

"Oh right, so you mean your first priority was me when you made that run this week, knowing it could potentially put you in danger, and knowing if you got caught, you'd go to jail and you did it anyway. Were you thinking about me then, huh?"

"What the fuck are you sayin', Iz?"

"I'm saying you're a hypocrite," she sputtered back, unable to control her emotions or the situation any longer. "I'm not saying you shouldn't have done it...but you can't honestly stand there and say that to me when you're going to be gone for almost a year, Jax."

His eyes narrowed into tight, dangerous slits. "So you're sayin' if you were really my first priority, I wouldn't have gone on that run?"

"I'm saying you can't honestly tell me your first priority is always me, all the time. You have obligations to the club. I get that. I've never asked you not to do something for the club and I would never ask you to be something you're not. I understand why you have to do the things you do. And when you're doing those things, it's not about me, is it?"

She paused, hoping that this was making sense to him, hoping that he was beginning to see her point of view. And as he continued to just bore a hole right through her, she had no choice but to press on.

"Jax...I understand why you're so upset...you have every right to be, but, you have to understand that I was being pulled in too many different directions. I mean, I've known Becca since before we were in kindergarten...we did everything together. She was there for me when my mom died, she held my hand at her funeral...I couldn't just throw her to the wolves without knowing for sure."

Tugging a hand through his hair, Jax rocked back on his heels again and kept his eyes firmly on the patch of carpet at her feet.

"And, baby," she insisted, with more desperation added to the ever-growing pile of emotions welling up inside her. "I know you think I chose her over you, but I had to choose both of you. I had to know for sure if she'd turned against the club because what if I was wrong? What if she didn't rat and I went to you anyways without getting the facts? I couldn't just hand her over and let the club do exactly what I know you'd do...because if I was wrong, Jax, I'd never be able to live with myself. I'd have my best friend's blood on my hands and I…"

She trailed off, unable to finish that last sentence and wiped away the stray tear that had slipped down her cheek. When her eyes darted up to him, all she was met with was more of the same: cloudy, disappointed, and frustrated eyes.

"You know, Iz, we could play the what if game until we're blue in the face, but that's not gonna change anything. The fact is, you should've fucking told me what was goin' on. I shouldn't have had to hear what my old lady was up to from Unser, of all people. I should've heard it from you. Even if you were still goin' to the precinct no matter what I said or did, you shouldn't have fucking lied to me."

Isabelle sucked in a ragged breath and felt her shoulders sag underneath the weight of everything he'd just said. He was right...he was right, but he was also wrong. She was right...but she was also wrong too.

"I just don't fuckin' understand where your head's been at lately," he went on coldly, his eyes grazing her with sharp, rough edges. "All this ATF shit has really brought out who can be trusted...and who can't."

Her blood froze to a standstill. "Are you saying you don't trust me anymore?"

He just lifted a shoulder nonchalantly. "I'm sayin' I don't know where you're at...I know where my priorities are, but you're a different story."

She couldn't believe the words that just fallen from his lips...the same lips that made her feel so alive, that made her feel so loved and wanted. At any moment now, she'd wake up, she'd find him sleeping soundly next to her and this would all be a horrible dream. How could he really have that low of an opinion of her? How could he really think she didn't have him right at the top of her list?

"Did you know my dad put up the deed to the house to help bail your ass out of jail?"

Something flickered across his face and then his mouth coiled. Still, he said nothing and now, her shoulders were trembling, her hands were shaking, and tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"I went to him and asked him for help and I can't even stand to be in the same room as him, let alone talk to him anymore...you know that. Do you wanna know what he said?" She didn't wait to hear his reply. "He told me you were a criminal and that you deserve to be in jail. And that he thought I was smarter than that...smarter than to sit around and wait for you."

She had to stop to suck in a deep breath. There was nothing she could do now to keep her emotions in check.

"So I told him that I _was_ going to wait for you because I love you, because you love me, and because you make me fucking happy. He put down the deed to the house...did you know that? Did you know he did that because I asked him to?"

Jax swallowed tightly, eyes still fixed firmly on the stained carpet beneath their feet. Then, almost imperceptibly, his head shook.

"I did that because I love you, Jax. I did that because I wanted to help you, because I needed to help you. Would I have went to my dad, and you know how I feel about him...would I have done that if I wasn't putting you fucking first? Before myself? It's not fair to stack our priorities up against each other like this because it's just too complicated…you have your obligation to your family and to me and I get that they don't always work together. I see that now. I've been trying to figure out how to balance all this...how to make everything work...with you, the club, school, my dad, family. And Becca was a part of my family, too, Jax. I know she wasn't part of yours, but she was a part of mine, and I had to try. And I thought that if I could stop her, I could keep you from going to jail and keep her from getting a bullet in her head."

She shook her head dejectedly as new tears fell down her cheeks. "I was wrong. I shouldn't have tried to help her...you were right. She didn't deserve what I tried to do for her. And it's not like it even mattered anyways. I didn't know what to do and I was just trying to do the right thing for both of you and I was wrong. I made a mistake, Jax, and I'll never forgive myself for doing it. But that doesn't mean you can't trust me...that doesn't mean all this time, everything we've been through together doesn't mean anything and you can't just take one thing, one mistake and pit that against everything else...and judge my loyalty, judge whether or not you can trust me...how I feel about you...it's not fair."

He chewed on his bottom lip and cocked his head to one side, still unable to bring himself to look her in the eye. That was the part that had her so twisted up...that was the part that threatened to enrage her entirely. Was he even listening to her anymore? Was he just so dead set in what he thought he knew that everything she'd just said had fallen on deaf ears?

"I don't know what you want me to say here, Iz," he finally broke his silence in a tight, hoarse voice.

She tore her gaze away from him, unable to torture herself any longer and squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, she felt herself wavering along the thin line between love and war.

"I've been trying so hard to balance everything," she choked out in a faint whisper. "And nothing is going right. Nothing is working out the way it should...this whole week, everything's been off and now-"

"Right," he cut in sharply with a laugh. "Because you're not feelin' good, right? Are you really sick, Iz, or is there some big sob story that goes along with that shit too?"

Everything seemed to erupt in one colossal explosion. It wouldn't rest, it wouldn't settle, and it definitely wasn't going to stop.

With a surge of mad desperation, she shoved him roughly in the chest and spat out: "Fuck you, Jax!" She shoved him again because she could no longer control herself. "Maybe I haven't been feeling well because I'm fucking pregnant!"

She hadn't meant for it to happen this way. She hadn't meant for this news, which was supposed to be happy and exciting, to sputter and spoil from her lips. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Jax stilled in front of her, every limb seemed to be on ice, and his eyes widened as his lips spread open in shock.

"What?"

"You heard me," she bit out. "I'm pregnant. That's why I haven't been feeling well. It's called morning sickness, you asshole."

He backpedalled in slow motion, his jaw still hanging by its hinges, and when his calves hit the bed, he sank down to the mattress. His hands rested on his knees as he sat there, dumbstruck at this news, staring blankly ahead at nothing.

"I didn't want to tell you this way," she whispered, her voice catching in her throat. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean for it to just come out like that."

He swallowed tightly. "When did you find out?"

"The day you came home from the run, well, that morning, actually."

Jax's eyes shot up to her, but this time, his blue eyes were swimming with disbelief, shock, awe, and grief. This turnabout should've made her feel better, but it didn't...her emotions' strong current had carried her away and she was barely keeping her head above water.

"I should've told you then," she went on with a sigh. "I shouldn't have waited. But Gemma and Donna, they were with me when I took the tests at the clubhouse, they told me to wait until the next day because you were just coming home and I was so tired...I'm still so tired…and that we should both rest and relax and then I was going to tell you the next day when we met for lunch to talk. I thought I had time...and I needed some time to process everything. I didn't know what to think, what to do...how you were going to feel about it, how I felt about it...I thought taking a day to figure all that out would be better and make it easier to tell you."

But then he'd been arrested and everything seemed to have been torn from them. If she had known what was going to happen, there was no way she'd would've dragged her feet in giving him this news. But like he'd said, they could play the what if game until they were blue in the face, and it still wouldn't change anything. He was going to jail. His trust in her had wavered. She was pregnant. Her best friend had turned against him and everyone he loved. And he was going to miss everything. There was nothing either of them could do or say that would change any of that.

His head was buried deep in his hands now and she could see his shoulders rising and falling rapidly, like he was trying to keep himself from either dry-heaving or punching through a wall. Maybe both. But like he'd said...that didn't change anything. His words had scalded; they'd punctured something inside her, and like the mistake she'd made, he couldn't take that back either.

"So do you get it now?"

His head unearthed itself from his hands and his eyes were brimming with remorse and unshed tears. She just shook her head at him...she was past the point of no return now.

"Do you understand why I was just so...why I didn't know what to do? I had literally just found out I was pregnant...maybe just a few hours before Unser called me and my head was already all over the fucking place and that just pulled it in one more shitty direction. I didn't know how to keep my best friend alive and the father of my baby out of jail...and I did the best I could. And then you come back and look at me like this...like I'm a piece of fucking dirt, like I'm nothing to you...and...how could you think you couldn't trust me? Everything I did...it was for you, Jax. It was because of you...I know you don't see it that way and I don't know what I can do anymore to make you understand and you know what? I don't fucking care anymore either!"

His eyes softened and as he rubbed a hand over his mouth, he burst up from the bed, moving with an arm outstretched to her. "Iz…"

"No!" she batted his arm away viciously. "Don't fucking touch me!"

One of his warm hands settled on her hip and started to pull her into him, but she just shoved him away.

"I don't want you to touch me right now, Jax...I don't wanna be around you right now."

She pivoted on her heel and started heading towards the door before his arms shot out to stop her.

"Iz! Don't leave...come on, babe…"

"Don't, Jax...just don't," she spat back at him and she started to feel heavy from all the hurricane raging inside her. "I need some space. I'm going home and you're not coming with me right now. I don't want to see you, I don't want to talk to you...I want you to leave me the fuck alone!"

He winced violently and squeezed his eyes shut. "Iz, please...don't leave like this. Just stay...let's figure this shit out, okay?"

"I think we've done enough talking for now. What's left to say anyways? You've made yourself perfectly clear and I…" her voice caught in her throat and she just needed out of this room. "I just need some space."

Jax blew out an exasperated breath and rubbed both hands over his face. Any fight left in him seemed to have diminished for the time being and when he looked back at her again, all the animosity and intensity had evaporated. All that was left was still swimming in his blue eyes, but she chose to ignore it.

"Okay...let me drive you then."

"No."

He huffed anxiously. "Fine. Someone else will drive you because you're not drivin' home, not like this, Iz."

"Fine," she snapped back tightly and headed back towards the door.

She didn't care right now that he was right on her heels, following her every move, and that he promptly arranged for a prospect to take her home and stay there with her until she was ready to talk to him again. As far as she was concerned, there were just too many emotions pushing and pulling in her in too many directions. All she wanted to do now was fall into bed at home and sleep.

* * *

Jax fell down into one of the stools at the bar and leaned deeply against the counter on his elbows. What the fuck had just happened in there? Well, he knew exactly what happened. His whole life had been forever altered...that's what fucking happened. All ability to think or speak or do just about anything had left him the second Isabelle told him she was pregnant. Nothing in his life up until now had prepared him for this moment.

While there had never been any doubt in his mind that he wanted to start a family with Isabelle, he'd never imagined it would happen like this. The timing was just a sick joke. Part of him wanted to raise a fist to the air and scream: _congratulations, universe. You win. Thanks for giving me everything I've ever wanted and then taking it away_. The other part of him wanted to retreat back to his dorm, curl up on his bed in the fetal position, and ball his eyes out.

Because when the initial shock wore off, all he could think about was the fact that in three weeks, he would be locked up in Stockton. And Isabelle would be left behind, pregnant with his baby.

Even if, by some miracle, he got out earlier than a year, he would still miss the birth of his own kid. He would miss everything. Every kick, every doctor's appointment, every time she needed him to do something for her-whether it was just to make breakfast or feed a craving-he wouldn't be there. Someone else was going to have to do it. His stomach churned at the thought and for a moment, he thought he might lose it all together.

His eyes scanned the clubhouse desperately for Opie. He would get it. He would understand exactly what he was feeling right now...but he came up empty. Ope must have high-tailed it out of here with Donna sometime during his and Isabelle's epic fight. Jax couldn't blame him...if he hadn't had to confront his own old lady, he would've thrown her over the back of his bike and sped through the streets of Charming to get her fine ass home.

Of course, now he knew he couldn't exactly throw her over the back of his bike anymore...at least not for awhile.

Jesus Christ, she was right about one thing earlier: nothing was going the way it was supposed to. Nothing was happening the way it should.

Motioning towards the bar with one hand, he called over the prospect behind the bar. Once the glass was in between his fingers, he still didn't feel better. And after the cold burn of whiskey slid down his throat, he still didn't feel any better. So he got another. And another. Now he was just starting to feel numb...at least that was better than feeling everything all at once.

"Whoa, bro," a voice called out from behind him. "Slow down there."

Jax glanced over his shoulder to see Tig hopping up on the stool right next to him and he wanted to slam his head against the bar. TIg clapped him on the shoulder and shot him a wide, albeit slightly deranged grin. Just the voice of reason he needed to get this shit show started...great.

"I just saw you throw back three shots in less than a minute, bro," Tig told him pointedly. "Where's the fuckin' fire? It's been awhile I've seen you put this shit away like that."

Jax didn't respond, instead choosing to instruct the prospect to get him another shot. Tig cocked an eyebrow his way as Jax dipped the shot glass back and then he leaned deep into his elbows on the bar.

"Come on, bro," Tig coaxed lightly. "I just saw your old lady lit on outta here, all hot and bothered...sorry, but she's hot...so tell ol' Tiggy what's goin' on."

He blew out an agitated sigh and stared down at his hands. "Isabelle's pregnant."

Tig nodded emphatically. "Ah...baby momma drama. It's a bitch. And lemme tell ya, pregnancy hormones are a bitch and a half. I've been through that shit twice and trust me, for the next how many months while she's knocked up, you ain't never gonna be right, bro. You're always gonna be wrong, so you might as well get used to it now."

"Thanks, Tig," he bit out sarcastically. "That really makes me feel a whole lot better...you know, considering."

Tig just lifted a shoulder good-naturedly. "You'll still see her, all fat and beautiful with your kid; you'll just have to wait once a week to do it."

"Yeah, for all of 45 minutes if I'm lucky."

"Well, it could be worse, bro. You could be like some of those sorry assholes that gotta see their women behind glass. At least you'll get to touch her and kiss her, you know?"

"It's not even that...it's just all the other shit. I'm not gonna see any of it. I mean, Jesus, the kid will be a couple months old by the time I get out if I'm in for a whole year."

"Yeah," Tig nodded, his usually crazy, mischievous eyes ebbing towards sympathy. "She seemed pretty broken up about that too. Man, when Rosen told us all how long you guys were gonna be in for...I thought she was gonna pass out."

Jax's head turned in a flash, eyes wide and he felt like someone had just sucker punched him in the gut. "What?"

"She didn't look so hot then, I'll tell ya that," he informed Jax with a grave expression. "She kinda wobbled a little, you know? Don't worry, though, I took care of her for ya and made sure she was sittin' down. You know...knowin' what I know now, it makes sense."

As if he didn't already feel bad enough...as if he didn't already feel like his heart had been ripped right out of his throat and stomped on.

"So what the hell's goin' on with you two kids, huh? Why are you here when you should be wherever she is right now?"

Jax eyed him warily, weighing whether or not it was smart to rehash all this again, let alone with Tig of all people. His eyes scanned the rest of the clubhouse for a moment in his indecision and they stalled at the vaguely familiar figure perched on the pool table. Squinting just enough to get a clearer look at her face, his eyes widened with recognition. Oh shit...he'd completely forgotten all about that bitch. What the hell was her name again...Wendy? And she'd had that ginger friend who wanted to do a threesome with him, but he'd been so wasted he hadn't even been able to keep it up long enough to get a condom on. The same fucking night he'd blown chunks all over Isabelle's shoes. The same night Isabelle had gently nudged him back towards the land of the living. The same night he'd started to fall for her, even if he hadn't recognized it at the time.

When Wendy winked seductively at him, that was all he needed to send him sailing off that bar stool and back to his dorm room, where his keys were waiting for him. This wasn't where he needed to be right now. He needed to go home. He needed to be with Isabelle.

His feet couldn't carry him down the hallway fast enough. What the fuck was he thinking? His old lady..scratch that, his pregnant old lady, was sitting in their house by herself, most likely hormonal and pissed as shit at him for things he did and some things he didn't. Either way, he needed to get his ass home and talk this out with her.

The more time he had to ruminate on this whole fucking mess, the more he realized where her head had been at: right between a rock and a hard place. Granted, his mother would've handled the situation much, much differently, but she'd also been an old lady for over twenty years. Isabelle didn't even have a full year in, not to mention the fact that this life was still one she was acclimating to. With the limited experience she had as an old lady and in this life in general, she hadn't had much to go on.

All she'd done was used the information she had and had tried to save them both, as she'd explained earlier. And he knew, without a doubt, that if the club had voted differently and he could've shared their suspicions with her about Becca, she wouldn't have hesitated to alert him immediately when Unser called. While she'd made a grave error in believing Becca could potentially be saved, she also hadn't had all the facts. The club was to blame for that.

And he couldn't necessarily blame her for wanting to be absolutely sure. For wanting to know exactly what Becca had or hadn't done before turning her over to the club. He knew that if by some miracle all their suspicions were wrong and Isabelle had called him immediately after talking to Unser, she would've lived with that guilt for the rest of her life. So much that it might have meant he could've lost her altogether. There would've been no way she could continue to exist in this life if she'd turned Becca in, and they'd done her in, only to find out that Becca was innocent. It would've broken her beyond repair.

Now that he had all the information, he could see with full clarity how emotions, reason, logic, and circumstance had gotten all jumbled around inside her head. Finding out that not only was she pregnant, but the girl she'd believed to be her best friend had ratted on the club and sent him to jail all in the very same day would be enough to make reason and logic next to impossible.

Add hormones to the mix, as Tig had suggested, and it was recipe for disaster.

Once he had his keys in hand, he immediately turned on his heel and pushed on back down the hallway. When that crazy whore Wendy moved to block his path, he just side-stepped around her, cutting off anything she was about to suggest. It didn't matter that he'd just downed one too many shots and probably shouldn't be speeding off home. Seeing that reminder of what he'd been only reinforced the resolution to get home as soon as possible.

There'd been a time when it was easy to sweep his problems under the rug, to just drink and smoke and fuck his cares away. But he wasn't the guy that drowned himself in faceless pussy and booze anymore. Isabelle had pulled him out of that darkness and he was never going back.

So as he sped through the path home, he knew with complete certainty that all this shit was something that could be dealt with. This could be fixed. This could be forgiven. Every old lady needed to learn how to determine who could and couldn't be trusted and she'd learned that lesson the hard way. This was something that couldn't happen again. She couldn't give him a reason to doubt her...but, just as she'd told him she'd never ask him to be something he wasn't, he needed to do the same for her.

At her core, Isabelle was the most compassionate, empathetic, and understanding person he'd ever met. She didn't just care about the people around her-she was willing to go to hell and back for the people she loved. That was one of the things he loved most about her in the first place. And that was exactly why she'd gone to her dad and asked him for help. Because she loved him. Because she'd wanted to help him. She was the most selfless person he'd ever met.

He never wanted that to change; he never wanted her to lose that part of herself that was good, decent, and honest. And he knew that she'd honestly believed she really was choosing both of them, that she had a chance to convince Becca to do the right thing, which would've made Stockton a null and void issue. She'd done what any good, decent person would do for their best friend: she'd given Becca the benefit of the doubt. And even though she'd been wrong, she'd tried to do the right thing. He couldn't ask her to close that part of her off anymore than she could ask him to quit the outlaw life.

She'd made a mistake. She'd fucked up. And this wasn't just a minor thing either. But he had to remind himself that he'd already fucked up enough times for the both of them-and he would still continue to fuck up-and she'd forgiven him every time. He was also going to be locked up for the next year and she'd already told him she was going to wait for him without him even needing to bring it up…not to mention the fact that she would have to have their baby without him there. That alone was enough to force him to wipe the slate clean.

Whatever shit had gone done before didn't matter anymore. Nothing she did or didn't do would've changed the inevitable outcome. He was still headed to Stockton. And she'd tried to help...even if her methods were completely wrong, the motivation was still right.

He needed to go home. He needed to make each second with her count because in three short weeks, he was going to need to hang on to each and every one of those seconds.

* * *

Isabelle shoved the paintbrush around the canvas with mindless, directionless rage. She couldn't remember the last time she'd abused the canvas like this. It really wasn't the canvas' fault...part of her didn't even know why she was so pissed anymore...she just was. She was just _mad_. With each shaky breath, her emotions seemed to ebb and flow. Sometimes, they spiked up as Jax's flashing, furious dark eyes sliced into her in her mind. Sometimes, they fell deep into the depths of despair at the current state of their relationship...he was going to be gone, he was going to miss everything, and they shouldn't be fucking fighting right now.

With that thought, she flung the paintbrush desperately into the wall directly in front of her, leaving a trail of jagged, red splotches down the side. Reaching for red had definitely been a subconscious choice: that was the way she felt, so that was how her current feelings were going to manifest themselves. Working, painting especially, had always been a sort of therapy for her, a way to exorcise her demons, and sift through whatever was weighing her down. Once it was out on the paper or the canvas, she usually felt purged. She really wished she could say that now.

It hadn't helped. She was still just...pissed. Mad. Frustrated. Disappointed. She couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was that had set her off; all she knew was that she didn't want to see Jax yet. She needed more time to cool off, to wrestle through all this, before they could hash everything out.

God, she wished she hadn't blurted out she was pregnant like that. While he'd been in County, she'd daydreamed about all the different ways she could tell him and the various reactions that went along with it, but she'd never wanted it to just come out with it like that...out of anger and out of spite. She'd wanted to hurt him. She'd wanted him to feel the same devastation she felt. And while she had a feeling her blow had landed a direct hit, that knowledge didn't make her feel any better. If anything, it just made her feel worse.

Heavy knocking pounded furiously on the front door and she frowned, rising up from her stool in front of the easel and gingerly stuck her head out of the doorway. The prospect Jax had commissioned to babysit her was staring back at her, sheepishly gesturing towards the door.

"Um, I think maybe you should answer it, ma'am," he told her uncertainly.

Still frowning, she shuffled down the hallway and towards the door, flinging it open with one swift motion. Jax was standing in front of her, both arms splayed over the doorway as he leaned into the open space. It was his eyes that knocked her sideways-she'd almost gotten so accustomed to seeing nothing but fire and splintering ice spurting from them that this softness, this apology, this genuineness was not something she was prepared to see.

"Iz…" he started softly before darting his eyes to the prospect behind her and nodding to him, signalling that it was time for him to leave. "Can I come in?"

She mutely stepped to the side as the prospect passed by them and huffed, folding her arms across her chest. Just seeing him sent her flying right back to where she was before and she just couldn't stop it. Her chest was heaving wildly now and she just couldn't make it go away. The things he'd said, the way he'd looked at her...she wasn't ready to hear him apologize yet.

So, without as much as a word, she gripped hold of the door and started to shut it right in his face. When his hand shot out to stop her, putting just enough force to gently nudge her backwards, the soft, concerned eyes reflecting back at her still didn't change.

"Iz...please," he tried again, this time more urgently. "Just let me in. We need to figure all this shit out...don't be like this."

Her nostrils flared with unbridled tension at his choice of words and his eyes widened as he seemed to realize his error.

"No," she bit back. "No, you can't come in yet."

"Come on, babe. This is my house too...don't you think you're being just a little irrational here?"

Wow, he just kept right on going, didn't he? Didn't he know when the hell to quit? Yes, maybe she was being a little irrational, but she wasn't going to admit it right then. That didn't mean she was ready to talk to him. That didn't mean she was ready to forgive him for not trusting her yet. Even though you gave him every reason to doubt you, a tiny voice whispered to her. Shut up, tiny voice! she screamed back at it. Just shut up! You don't know jackshit!

"No, I don't, Jax. I don't think you realize how much you hurt me," she choked out as tears caught in her throat. "I don't think you realize how much everything you said before killed me."

His head tilted to the side in agony and he reached for her, only for her to bat down his hand.

"I'll call you when I'm ready to talk to you," she told him icily. "Until then, please respect my space."

Steely resolve clouded his eyes and for a moment, she thought he would protest. She thought he would fight a little harder. Instead, he nodded sadly and stepped back down until his feet were planted firmly on the front porch. Then she slammed the door in his face.

She stumbled back until her calves hit the back of their couch and tried desperately to control the thundering inside her chest. About two seconds later, her phone chimed from the second bedroom and she headed back down the hallway with a sigh.

As she swept her phone off of the desk Jax had put there for her, she frowned down at the screen. The words just couldn't register with her: _Not leavin u, babe. I'll just wait til u wanna talk._

Swallowing tightly, she gingerly stepped around the easel until she was leaning up against the window so she could pull down the blinds just enough. Jax's white shoes were clearly visible from the edge of the porch, along with a ringed hand, and a trail of smoke puffed out into the yard.

Alright, fine. If he wanted to wait, then she'd let him wait.

With new resolve, she swung a leg over the stool again and shoved her earbuds in, cranking up the volume as loud as her eardrums could tolerate. The music alone was usually enough to put her in the zone to drown everything else out. Usually, all that was left was just her emotions, the music, the paint, and the canvas. Unfortunately, today was the exception to the rule because no level of white noise could drown out this pain. It also didn't help that the song currently blaring through her earbuds was one she'd put on her iPod because it was one of Jax's favorite Rage Against the Machine songs. Abruptly, she clicked the shuffle button to get it out of her head.

Twenty minutes later, she roughly pushed off the stool and stalked back to the window. White shoes were still directly in her line of vision, but now, both of his ringed hands were clasped over his knees, and he was leaning forward enough off the porch that she could clearly see his stricken, tightly drawn features. He really was going to sit out there and wait for her.

On some level, she supposed it was only fair that he wait a little bit longer. After all, she was going to be waiting for him for a year, maybe nine months if they were lucky. So, maybe he deserved to sit out there just a little longer on principle alone.

And...what was she mad about again? Suddenly, everything that had happened, everything he'd said, how low he'd made her feel, none of that mattered anymore. In three weeks, he would be checking into Stockton and she'd be lucky to see him once a week. Shouldn't they be making the most with the time they had left together? They were having a baby...and there was only so much time left to enjoy that together, with him free to really be part of it, to really be there.

Despite her better judgment, she sank back down onto the stool and exhaled deeply, picking up a paintbrush to refocus on the disaster on the canvas. Jesus, now that she'd really taken a moment to look at it, this latest project was starting to look like something out of a horror movie...and definitely not a good one. Red slashes ran across the canvas at various angles with different degrees of splattered, haphazardly droplets thrown around and it seriously looked like a crime scene from Law and Order or Dexter. That was a serious problem.

With a sigh, she pushed off the stool again and shuffled towards the front door. Maybe it was time to quit being such a spiteful, hormonal bitch.

When she pulled the door open, Jax whirled around in surprise, quickly scrambling up to his feet and stomping out the cigarette in his hand. He waved a hand around wildly to push the smoke away from her and she had to smile at the effort. Ever since they'd come back into each other's lives, he'd always made a point not to smoke around her if he could help it. At first, she knew it had more to do with the fact that she'd lost a parent to lung cancer and he'd wanted to be respectful of that. But she had a feeling his tendency to overprotect was already beginning to multiply tenfold because now, he didn't just have her to protect anymore.

They stood in front of each other for a few long seconds and she felt her insides twisting and turning at the somber, apologetic glaze in his sapphire eyes.

"Babe," he murmured hoarsely and reached out to close his fingers around her hand. "Can I come in now?"

She nodded simply and turned to go back inside with Jax right on her heels. As soon as they were both back inside the house and the door was closed behind them, Jax pulled her tightly into his arms. She leaned wearily into his shoulder and inhaled the familiar scent of musk, leather, and gasoline. How would she ever survive without this everyday? How would she even be able to function?

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair. "I'm so sorry, Iz."

Tears pricked at her eyes and she swallowed tightly, tilting her chin back to get a clearer look at him. "I know, baby; I know...none of this would've happened if I'd just done the right thing. I shouldn't have-"

"Don't, babe," he cut in gently, taking her face in between his calloused hands. "I get why you did it. I get what you were tryin' to do...I really do. You and I both know that can't happen again, Iz-"

She jumped to set him at ease, to make this right between them. "It won't, Jax. I'll never make you doubt me again."

He nodded slowly and ran a thumb lovingly over her cheek. "I know. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that; I should've reined that shit in better."

"You had every right to pissed, Jax...and," her voice caught in her throat as she spoke. "I'm sorry you had to find out the way you did...about the baby. I never meant for that to happen."

His face twisted in anguish and he rubbed a hand over his mouth before her drawing her in closer to him.

"I just wish...I just wish so many things could be different for us right now. But that doesn't mean that I'm not happy as fuck about the baby, Iz. You have to know that, right?" He waited for her to nod before pressing on. "The last thing I'm upset about is the baby. I just can't believe that…"

His voice cracked as he trailed off and he looked away, unable to finish that sentence. He squeezed his eyes shut and sank down to the rest heavily against the back of the couch. As she stepped gingerly between his legs, she wrapped an arm around his neck and gently wiped away the stray tear that trailed down his stubbled cheek.

"I know, baby," she whispered, her own eyes watering with each second that passed. "But there's nothing we can do about that. All we can do is just focus on what we do have, right here, right now. I love you...so much it hurts, Jax, and I can't spend anymore time thinking about what's going to happen in three weeks because that isn't going to help. We have to hold on to this while we still have it, Jax."

He exhaled roughly and when his eyes opened again, they filled with new resolve and new awareness. Finally, they were on the same page.

"I love you too, babe," he murmured as he pressed his lips into hers. "I love you so much."

She grinned against his lips and playfully nudged him backwards until his back slid down to the cushions. He yelped and hoisted her over the edge, pulling her down with him and nestling her gently against his chest, wrapping both arms tightly around her waist.

"I gotta be gentle with ya, babe," he whispered into her hair. "Can't be too rough anymore, huh?"

"I'm not gonna break, Jax," she laughed against his neck. "Besides, you know I like it rough, baby."

His mouth twisted into that sexy, lop-sided smirk she loved so much and within moments, his fingers were skimming up the side of her shirt and then it was over her head before she knew what was happening. A second later, her bra clasp flapped down to her sides and she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

"Wow," she chuckled. "That sure didn't take much convincing."

His lips were on her neck now and they sucked gently on the most sensitive area there he knew so well as his hands moved expertly down her body.

"You know me," he murmured huskily into her skin. "You don't have to tell me twice, babe."

* * *

**A/N-Hopefully, both POVs came across clearly. They both had valid points, at least in my opinion, and now with Jax going to Stockton looming over them, they might be better off just valuing what little time they have left together, rather than focusing too much on things that can't be changed (or undone).**

**Let me know what you thought of this one. All your feedback has always been amazing and it really keeps me motivated to keep going! Thanks again!**


	9. Taste

Isabelle woke up the next morning burrowed tightly against Jax's bare chest. She sighed deeply as he sleepily slipped a hand protectively over her stomach. Smiling into his chest, she bit her lip while Jax's fingers lightly traced the length of her stomach and for the first time in over three days, she finally felt at ease. Relaxed and content.

"This is nice," she murmured against his skin, nuzzling him a little more as she spoke.

"Hmm," he mumbled into her hair. "You know, I've been thinkin'..."

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh," he grinned down at her with sleepy, hooded blue eyes. "And I think it's gonna be a boy."

She chuckled into his chest as he just drew her more tightly against him with his own laugh. "Oh sure...of course you do."

"Hey," he laughed. "What's that supposed to mean, huh? What's wrong with wanting a little mini-me running around?"

"Okay...so, what about me?"

"Oh no...no, no, no," he exhaled with a playful shudder. "I'm not ready for that yet."

"Come on, Jax," she shot back lightly and threw a leg around his waist for good measure.

"Well, babe, someday when we do have a daughter, I know she's gonna look just like you and then I'll be a complete psycho for the rest of my life while I bat away all the guys off of her. I'll be completely grey by the time I'm 25 if it's a girl. So, I'm sure you can see why I'd like to put _that_ off for as long as possible."

"Alright," she grinned. "I guess I can see that...maybe we'll get lucky then."

"Babe," he whispered into her hair. "We already are."

She grinned up at him, overwhelmed with this feeling that maybe somehow, someway, everything was going to work out. Not wanting to allow herself to ruminate for too long on what was going to happen in less than three weeks, she snuggled up against her man's bare, muscled chest. Yes, that was absolutely what she needed to focus on right now. They had 20 days and she planned on making the most of that time...she knew she was going to need to file moments like these in her memory for when she lying in bed alone and…no, she couldn't go there yet.

"You hungry, babe?"

"Mm hmm," she murmured against his skin and smiled when his arms tightened around her.

He kissed her hair before gently untangling himself to ease out of bed. He rounded the side of the bed to head towards the hallway, shooting her that sexy, lop-sided grin as he shuffled out of their bedroom. Taking a moment to bury her nose in his now-abandoned pillow, she inhaled deeply and rolled over onto her back. When she heard some banging and clanging around in the kitchen, she decided to haul her lazy ass out of bed and see what Jax was up to.

When she finally found her way to the kitchen, Jax was rifling through the refrigerator and she suddenly wished she'd done some grocery shopping...there definitely wasn't much in there. Jax's head shot up from behind the door and immediately scrambled over to her, gently grabbing her hand to pull her down to a seat at the table.

"Just sit, babe. I got this. From now on, you got me at your beck and call, alright?"

She cocked a playful eyebrow at him. "You sure you're not just trying to get out of eating my cooking?"

His mouth twisted ruefully and he bit down on his bottom lip to hide his indecision. "Uh...yeah, that too."

"Oh sure," she waved her hands around dramatically. "Now it all comes out...thanks, baby. Love you too."

He just puckered up his lips to throw her an air-kiss before turning back to the refrigerator. "Come on, babe. Your cooking isn't that bad...sometimes, it's just not that...edible is all."

"Thanks, Jax."

"No prob, babe," he winked at her. "So...want some coffee?"

She was just about to gratefully nod her head, but then she remembered. "Uh, I don't think I'm supposed to...you know, because of the caffeine."

He whirled around to face her with a frown and a moment later, the pieces snapped together as he rubbed a hand thoughtfully over his mouth. "Oh...right. Do we have decaf?"

"I don't think so."

"Okay, so I guess we're gonna have to get some then. So, how about some orange juice? You know for the vitamin C or maybe milk...for some calcium?"

She bit down on her bottom lip as he grinned back at her tenderly. Yeah, she could definitely get used to this...for as long as possible. She was used to him taking care of her, but this, this was coming from a different place entirely.

"Doesn't matter to me, baby."

He winked at her one more time before turning back to the refrigerator and she had a sudden moment of deja vu-when Jax had done this very same thing after the first night they'd spent together, when her dad had gone off the rails and he'd swooped in and washed it away. God, she really loved him.

"Okay, so it looks like our options are cereal, pancakes, waffles, or eggs."

She grimaced at the mention of her new nemesis. "No eggs, please. I don't want a repeat of that shit...ugh, it was awful."

When he cocked a questioning eyebrow at her, she quickly jumped into the story.

"I was making one of those frozen egg sandwiches at T-M and the second I opened the microwave, it just hit me and about two seconds later, I was puking in the toilet with your mom watching me like a hawk. That was how I found out I was pregnant actually...well, it was more like your mom put two and two together...and then she had me peeing on a stick. It was great."

He chuckled lightly and shuffled closer to her until he was crouched down between her outstretched legs. "I'm sorry I wasn't there, babe."

"It's okay...you're here now."

He leaned forward to press a quick kiss onto her lips. "Yeah, I'm here now. So...no eggs then. Pancakes?"

"Pancakes sound great."

He stood to head back over towards the stove and bent down to grab a pan from the drawer underneath the stove. "So, how are you feelin' today then? Is your stomach okay?"

"Uh," she looked down at her stomach as she spoke and gingerly covered it with a hand. "It's a little on the queasy side, but nothing I can't handle."

"Okay," he turned back to her with a glass of milk in his hand. "So, just tell me what to do here. What do you need?"

"Right now," she smiled as he set the glass in front of her. "Pancakes would be great. I have my first doctor's appointment next week though."

"Okay," he nodded quickly. "Just tell me where and when, babe."

She smiled back at him and just as she brought the glass to her lips, her stomach lurched and swirled evilly. In a flash, she shot up from the table and darted down the hallway to the bathroom, with Jax right on her heels. This time, she narrowly missed the tiled floor, just barely getting her head in the toilet before heaving violently. Vaguely away that a pair of strong arms had enveloped her and that a hand was gingerly keeping her hair away from her face, her throat felt raw and dry as she heaved one last time into the toilet bowl.

When her stomach finally decided to behave a little better, she leaned back into Jax's chest as his arms gently pulled her closer against him. His lips were in her hair now and she swallowed tightly, grateful that he was here, grateful that at least for now, she wasn't alone.

"So...no dairy for a while then, huh?"

"No," she exhaled wearily. "Probably not."

"This brings back some great memories, doesn't it?" Jax murmured lightly into her ear. "You know...except this time, you actually made it to the toilet instead of all over my shoes."

She leaned over her shoulder and swatted at his chest playfully. "Shut it. This is all your fault anyways, you know."

Jax just held up his hands playfully. "Guilty as charged, babe. All my fault."

He was still laughing as gently lifted her back up on her feet and settled his hands around her waist to lead her back to the kitchen.

* * *

Jax lightly jogged up the front steps, feeling more jittery with every step he took, and gingerly ran the door bell. _Get a grip_, he told himself. _This is no big deal. Everything's gonna be fine_. But when Isabelle's father swung the front door open and his eyes widened in an unsettling combination of surprise and suspicion, Jax felt that nervous anticipation he'd been waging war against the entire ride over here slide back around his spine and it was all he could do to suppress a shudder.

"Jax?" Samuel Martin gaped back at him, blinking a few times in a row before shaking his head. "Well, I can't say I'm entirely surprised to see you here."

Jax swallowed tightly, knowing exactly what that meant. He could imagine how he would be feeling if their roles were reversed, if the guy who'd knocked up his daughter showed up at his doorstep...yeah, he knew exactly how he'd be feeling. He tugged a hand through his hair anxiously, hoping that familiar movement would calm him a little. It didn't.

"Hey, Mr. Martin," he started unsteadily. "I was hopin' I could speak to you for a minute."

Samuel cleared his throat and rose his eyebrows, then he just shrugged, stepping aside to make way for him. "Alright. Come on in."

Jax smiled back at him weakly and gratefully stepped inside the house. Isabelle's dad could've easily told him to get lost and before now, he'd never had a reason to seek out her father...nor had he wanted to. Given their history, Samuel Martin was the last person typically Jax wanted to talk to, let alone be in the same room with, but now, in light of recent events, it was time to put that past behind them. Or, at least, as much as possible.

As Jax walked stiffly down the hallway, it didn't seem to be lost on either of them that this wasn't the first time Jax had been in this house. He more than knew his way around and as the previous jitteriness jumped back through his limbs, he hoped Isabelle's father wasn't thinking about how well he knew his way around his daughter's old bedroom either.

Samuel gestured towards the table as he ambled over to the kitchen counter. "Please, have a seat."

Jax sank carefully into the seat across from him and was immediately assaulted with a strange sense of deja vu. This was exactly where he'd been sitting the first night he'd helped Isabelle bring her dad home, the night her dad had been so out of it, he hadn't even been able to pick himself off of the bathroom room. Jax had had to do it. And he'd sat here when he implored Isabelle to understand that she couldn't take all that on by herself anymore. In all fairness, it really should've been the moment he realized that Isabelle meant more to him than anything or anyone else. But at the time, he'd been too concerned about her well-being and too stubborn to believe that he could ever be anything she deserved to see that. It was safe to say that things were different now and he couldn't be more grateful for it.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" Samuel was saying now. "I've got a pot of coffee on if you're interested...just sticking to the hard stuff now, you know."

Jax chuckled lightly at the attempt, grateful for the little bit of levity in this otherwise tense and uncomfortable atmosphere. "Coffee's good."

When the steaming mug was placed in front of him, Samuel took the seat directly across from Jax, obviously giving him the floor.

Jax took a deep inhale for strength and pressed forward. "Look, Mr. Martin-"

"Please, Jax," he interjected quietly. "Call me Samuel."

Swallowing nervously, Jax nodded carefully, closing his fingers around the mug for lack of anything better to do with them. "Okay, uh...Samuel...I just wanted to thank you for helping us. With putting down the deed to the house and all. You didn't have to do that."

"I didn't do it for you."

"I know," Jax nodded solemnly. "And I'm still grateful. I know how much that was asking...and I know it really meant a lot to Iz...Isabelle, that you did that for her."

Samuel eyed him carefully from across the table with his hands clasped tightly in front of him. "Does she know you're here right now?"

"No," he shook his head. "I didn't want her to worry."

"And, knowing her, she'd probably have insisted on coming along with you too," Samuel smiled back softly.

"Right," Jax grinned. "And I figured that what we need to say and what I need to talk to you about should probably be done without her here hovering."

"You're probably right about that."

They sat there in silence for a few more uncomfortable moments and Jax filled that time by awkwardly taking a drink of his still too steaming coffee.

"You know, Jax," Samuel called out softly from his seat at the table. "I need to thank you as well."

Jax's eyes shot up from the coffee mug to meet his in surprise.

"I should've thanked you a long time ago," Samuel went on. "On Christmas, before then...so, I'm doing it now. Thank you for being there for her, for doing what I couldn't, for taking care of her, for looking out for her...thank you for...well, for picking me off the floor and bringing me home."

Jax swallowed tightly and had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do here. This was a man he'd spent months reviling and demonizing...after all, he'd hurt the one person they were both supposed to love and cherish above everything else. And now, as he looked back at the man sitting across from him, only tiny shades of the man he'd been remained.

There was still the deep sorrow etched across Samuel's features, along with the heavy weight of months and months hard drinking, but he seemed...refreshed. Like he'd somehow turned a corner and was attempting to get on the right track for once. For both himself and his daughter. And now, Jax realized with a heavy heart, there was going to be a grandchild soon to think about too. Samuel Martin had a lot of reasons to pull himself together and who was he to get in the way of that?

"I know that you and I have had our differences," Samuel went on. "And let's be honest here, neither one of us have ever really tried to put aside those differences for obvious reasons. But, I understand what you mean to her. I understand how much she loves you and...I'll never be able to forgive myself for ever putting her in that situation, that kind of danger. And because of that, I realize I've forfeited my role in her life...she got hurt because of me and I can't expect her or you to forgive that. I just hope you'll understand when I say that I'm going to do everything I can to be a father to her. I wasn't doing that before...but I'm going to do everything in my power to try now."

Jax chewed on the side of his cheek in thought. All that had caught him more than a little off-guard; he hadn't expected this conversation to turn into...this, but he couldn't exactly complain. Isabelle's dad was right; they'd needed to have this conversation a long time ago and given that his time was limited now, he needed to get all this shit squared away before his tenure at Stockton began.

"Well," Jax started slowly. "I appreciate that. I know Isabelle would too, if you told her. I know I haven't exactly given you much of a chance either, but I'd really like it if we could get along, even if it's just for Isabelle's sake."

"Don't mean for Isabelle and the baby's sake?" Samuel asked quietly, cocking his head to one side as he spoke.

His eyes widened and his stomach just about leapt up into his throat as he stared back at the father of his old lady. Jax swallowed tightly and then again, just to try to get some feeling back in his throat. He'd been very aware that this was going to come up eventually, that Isabelle had told her dad she was pregnant when she went to him for help with bail, and that it was going to be very, very uncomfortable for him, but he'd never imagined that it would suck this much.

"Yeah," he choked out awkwardly.

Samuel smiled sadly back at him. "You really love her, don't you?"

This was a question he had no problem answering.

"Yeah, I do," he nodded firmly. "I love your daughter, sir. And I would do anything for her. That's actually the other reason why I'm here...I'd like to ask your permission to marry her."

Samuel released an abrupt, deep sigh and then nodded slowly. It was then that Jax realized he must have expected this all along. He also then realized that he hadn't really asked; it was more like a statement. In reality, he knew he was well within his rights to give Isabelle a ring without talking to her dad first, especially considering that Isabelle's dad wasn't exactly in the picture right now, but it still didn't feel right. With Isabelle, everything had to be right; it had to be as close to perfect as he could make it and in light of their impending parenthood and his subsequent incarceration, his options were pretty limited.

"Well," Samuel started shakily. "I have to say I appreciate that you asked. And I understand the necessity with the baby and your arrest-"

"Wait a minute," Jax interjected quickly, doing his best to keep his voice level. "I'm not asking her to marry me just because of the baby and because I got arrested. I've had a ring for Isabelle for over a month...I just hadn't found the right time. I've known I wanted to marry her since before Christmas."

"Right," Samuel replied with a small grin. "Right. Well, I can't say I like or respect the way you make your living. It's that same living that's gotten you in the situation you're in now. Not only are you forcing my daughter to put her life on hold for a year, but you're also abandoning her when she needs you the most. But then again, I also abandoned her when she needed me the most, so I can't say I'm much better."

Jax swallowed tightly yet again. The truth fucking hurt. A lot.

"I never said I deserved her," Jax replied tersely. "I'm not sure I ever have."

"But you love her and she loves you," Samuel stated with a sigh.

"Yeah."

Samuel pushed out one more tight, heavy exhale. "Listen, Jax, I don't think it's a secret that I've never appreciated Samcro's presence in Charming. And I certainly never wanted my daughter mixed up in it. I'm sure Isabelle is aware of the danger attached to being with you, but I'm not completely convinced she understands just how much danger she could potentially be in. And now there's the baby to think about too. I've been living here long enough to know anytime Samcro has a problem with another gang, the first people that get hurt are always the women and children, even if it's not intentional. So, you can't look me in the eye right now and tell me nothing will ever happen to her or to the baby, because that's probably not true."

Just as Jax opened his mouth to protest, Samuel held up a hand to stop him.

"Just let me say my peace, alright?" Samuel implored quietly and Jax could only nod in response. "You probably don't know this, but, my wife always liked you."

Samuel paused to allow that to simmer and Jax could barely mask his surprise. His brain immediately sifted through what little he could remember about Isabelle's mom and all he could come up with were flashes and images of her smiling and waving at him. Did he light a cigarette for her once too? He had a brief flash of Isabelle and her mom sitting at a table outside the one cafe in Charming and Isabelle's mom waving him and Tara over.

"She liked to remind me," Samuel went on quietly. "That you were going to turn out just like your father, who I have to admit was a decent man and in different circumstances, a man I might've been friends with. She always said that there was more to you-and your father-than just the cut on your back. She believed that you had a good head on your shoulders, that you were smart, and she also liked to say whenever I complained about Samcro, that one day you were going to take over and change things. That things would be different with you at the head. She also mentioned to me in passing once that she thought you were going to turn into the exact kind of man Isabelle should be with...I'm sure you can imagine how I felt about _that_."

Those words hung in the air for a few silent moments and Jax didn't think he'd be able to speak even if he wanted to.

"So, I think it's safe to say that Katherine would've wholeheartedly approved of your relationship with Isabelle and I know she'd be thrilled by the marriage and baby plans, even if the circumstances are less than ideal. When Isabelle came to me for help, she spoke very passionately about how I should look beyond your criminal involvement and how you were a good man and I can see how much she loves you. If my wife and my daughter see something in you that's admirable and worthy, then I have no doubt that it's true. That being said, I can't in good conscience give you my approval. I don't agree with your lifestyle and some of the choices you've made. I know you could say the exact same thing to me, but she's still my daughter. You were right before; you don't deserve her and you're not good enough for her."

"Sir, I-"

"But," Samuel cut him off. "I don't think anyone will ever be good enough for her. My wife liked you and my daughter loves you, so, I won't stand in your way. I'll give her away, if she'll let me; I'll be there for my grandchild, if you'll let me, and I won't interfere in your lives. Just promise me that you'll take every precaution available to you to ensure their safety, that you'll keep them as as safe as you possibly can."

"You have my word, sir," Jax nodded to him promptly. "The only way anything would ever happen to them is if someone got through me first."

"I figured you'd say something like that," Samuel replied with a rueful smile.

Jax blew out a deep breath and rubbed his hands anxiously against his jeans. This hadn't gone exactly the way he'd thought it would, but Isabelle's dad hadn't yelled or punched or kicked him out of the house, so he figured that had to be a victory in itself.

"Look," he exhaled and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I understand where you're comin' from; I really do."

"At the end of the day, Jax, I just want to see my daughter happy. Safe and happy. I don't think that's too much to ask, do you?"

"No," Jax laughed a little as the tension in the kitchen disappeared. "It's not. I think that's definitely somethin' we can agree on."

As they stood up from the table, Samuel extended his hand out to Jax and for a moment, he stood completely frozen across from him and just stared blankly at Samuel's outstretched hand. He never could've imagined a situation where he and Isabelle's dad would actually find a way to get along, even if it was just in the name of keeping the peace for Isabelle and the baby. As he reached out to shake Samuel Martin's hand, he realized while he didn't get the blessing he'd initially been looking for, he gotten the man's respect. And that was all he could really ask for.

* * *

Agent Jordan abruptly tossed his camera into the empty seat next to him and punched the steering wheel. How in the hell had this gotten so out of control? Teller was going to prison in less than two weeks but nothing was going the way it should. Nothing was happening the way he needed it to.

She was pregnant with that criminal's baby. As much as he wished that knowledge changed the way he felt about her, he still couldn't shake the need to see her, to touch her, to taste her...to know her. That fucking criminal, the same one who ran guns and was most definitely guilty of more than what they'd been able to nail him for, had gotten her pregnant. It was almost too much to bear, too much to wrap his head around. It just didn't make sense...how could someone so smart and so good let something like that happen to her?

She deserved better. She deserved more. She needed someone who could truly protect her. She needed someone who could truly give her the life she deserved. Not some god-awful life of constant danger and violence. No...she was blinded by what she perceived was love for Teller. All Teller was capable of doing was breaking her heart and ruining her life in the process.

He'd followed them for the better part of the day and with each passing minute, he grew angrier and angrier. He'd sat idly by while Teller took her to the doctor and had barely contained himself when they'd exited the hospital over an hour later, giddy as teenagers with their arms happily wrapped around each other. Teller didn't deserve to have a baby with her. He didn't deserve to hold her, to kiss her, to live with her, to make love to her...someone like him deserved nothing less than strippers and whores.

So here he was, watching Teller jog around the side of his truck to open the door for the most beautiful, wonderful, smart, and perfect woman he'd ever known. Isabelle exited the truck and as she stepped out onto Teller-Morrow's parking lot, he could clearly see an ultrasound in her hand.

This was just too much. This was going to head nowhere but towards disaster. Isabelle was just going to get hurt. And it didn't help that Teller was going to abandon her and leave her alone during her pregnancy. Someone needed to keep an eye on her, he reasoned. Someone needed to watch out for her. Someone needed to save her from these fucking people, Teller especially.

And as he watched them enter the clubhouse, with Teller's hand playfully covering Isabelle's eyes as they pushed through the door, he resolved that this needed to stop. Isabelle couldn't continue to associate herself with these people, these lowlifes, these criminals. There would be plenty opportunity when Teller was locked away in Stockton. He would be able to reach out to her then. Someone needed to show her that there was more out there for her than what was here in Charming. And that someone was going to be him.

* * *

Isabelle laughed as Jax jogged around the side of the truck and yanked open the door for her. They'd left the hospital on cloud nine and that feeling of excitement and hope had followed them all the way back to the clubhouse. It was starting to sink in that they were going to parents and Jax's behavior was enough to ease any anxiety she'd had. Gemma had been right all along; Jax was all in. They were having a baby and she wasn't going to let herself think about where Jax was going to be during her pregnancy today. This was a happy day and she wasn't about to allow any dark clouds to sully her happiness.

"Oh come on," she called out to him with a laugh as he held out a hand. "Is this really necessary, Jax?"

"Of course, babe," Jax shook his head at her with a wide grin. "You're carryin' precious cargo. You'd better believe I'm gonna treat you like a fuckin' queen."

"Oh boy…" she exhaled softly as she allowed Jax to gently pull her out of the truck and into the parking lot.

"Oh boy is right," he grinned back at her and gestured with his head towards the ultrasound tucked safely away in her hand. "Just think, babe; that kid's been cookin' in there for seven weeks. It's kinda amazing, isn't it?"

"Yeah," she exhaled breathlessly. "It kinda is. It's weird...it just looks like a little blob right now."

"He's not gonna look like that for long though," he told her confidently and she just shook her head.

He was so sure the baby was going to be a boy...he'd even grilled the doctor earlier about each little outline from the ultrasound and what shapes indicated the sex and the doctor had just politely told him it was too soon to tell. Of course, Jax hadn't exactly taken that lightly either. He was convinced the baby was a boy and he'd told the doctor so just for good measure, much to her embarrassment.

When they reached the clubhouse's door, Jax playfully covered up her eyes with one hand as he pushed the door open with the other.

"Jax...what's going-"

The second Jax's hand dropped away from her eyes, her senses were immediately assaulted with flashes of pink, blue, and yellow as the full clubhouse yelled out: "Surprise!"

Her eyes widened as the streamers and balloons that said 'it's a boy' and 'it's a girl' filled her senses and she just barely registered that the entire club had gathered for the occasion. Gemma's arms were encircling her now, followed by Donna, and then Opie, and then Tig until the entire club had embraced her with Jax grinning down at her with pride brimming from his shining blue eyes.

"We just wanted to do a little somethin' for you guys," Gemma whispered in her ear. "I know it's a little early but Jax wanted to be here for some of it and we just wanted to get you two started."

"When you're big and fat like I was," Donna added with a laugh. "Then we'll throw you a huge party, promise. Especially since then we'll know what you're having."

"Okay, so-" Isabelle started before Gemma shrieked in her ear.

"Oh my God, is that the first picture of my grandbaby?"

Isabelle looked down at the ultrasound in her hand and gingerly held it out for Gemma to take, who eagerly snatched it from her hands. She could only chuckle happily while Gemma proudly displayed the ultrasound for everyone else to see as Jax wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her hair. While she knew full well that there was no way they'd be having any semblance of a baby shower for her at seven weeks in if Jax wasn't heading to Stockton soon, she couldn't help but be grateful that they were able to have this experience. During her real shower, as Gemma and Donna had promised, it wouldn't be possible for Jax to be there.

When Jax led her over to an empty chair, promptly sitting her down and ghosting his hands over her shoulders, he barely had time to lean down when Opie tugged him away and towards the bar, where a celebratory shot was waiting for him. Isabelle looked on, biting down happily on her bottom lip, as the entire club took a shot in the name of her unborn child and shivered when Jax's smiling blue eyes locked firmly on hers.

This was where she was supposed to be. This was her family now. And there was nothing that made her happier.

"Okay," Gemma ordered, pointing for Jax to take the seat next to her. "We only have a few things for you to open, but like I said, we just wanted to get you started, so…"

She promptly pivoted on one foot to turn towards Clay, who handed her a wrapped present, which she held out to Isabelle with a wistful, glowing smile.

"Here you go, sweetie."

Isabelle glanced quickly at Jax and when she was met with nothing but the love, devotion, and happiness she was used to seeing, she promptly tore open the wrapping paper until she held a worn, feather-soft blue blanket in her hands. She turned the folded fabric over in her hands until the name 'Jackson' stitched in dark blue caught her eye. Feeling tears prick at her eyes and her heart leap up into her throat, her eyes shot up to Gemma, who was watching her with misty eyes.

"Gemma...this is...beautiful. I don't know what to say."

"That was the blanket we brought Jax home in," Gemma choked out through her tears. "It's only right that you two have it now."

Jax shifted next to her until he was up and out of his seat, pulling his mother into his arms and kissing her on the cheek. "Thanks, Ma. This is great...it's perfect."

"No problem, baby."

Donna leapt at the opportunity and thrust her wrapped present excitedly at Isabelle. She took it from her extended hand with a grin and made quick work of tearing the paper away. When she held up the tiny onesie with the Samcro logo etched into the middle, she laughed and playfully held it up to her stomach.

"I don't know if it's gonna fit quite yet, but I'm sure he'll grow into it," she laughed as Jax reached up to tenderly cover her stomach with his hand.

Once the paper was cleaned up and tossed into the garbage and their presents were carefully folded onto a nearby table, Jax quietly grasped her hand and pulled her up from her chair.

"Jax, what are-"

"Just give me a second, okay?" Jax grinned down at her. "I know we've got this awesome party out here, but I really need to talk to you."

Her eyes widened at that silent promise in his eyes and she didn't hesitate to allow herself to be led down the hallway to Jax's dorm, acutely aware that all eyes seemed to be on them as they left the room. All words failed her as Jax quietly closed the door behind them and led her over to the bed with his hand on the small of her back.

They sat across each other in complete silence for a few long moments and she could feel her chest heaving wildly in anticipation. She knew what was coming now. It made sense that it was coming now. They loved each other. They were having a baby. He was going to have to leave soon. It was the next logical step, given their circumstances, but that still didn't completely prepare her for the moment Jax dug deep into his pocket and retrieved a small velvet box.

Her heart leapt into her throat and her mouth fell open as he cracked open the box to reveal a gorgeous round diamond ring with smaller diamonds encircling the band. It was the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen in her life and the fact that he'd chosen this for her, the fact that he knew this was exactly the type of ring she'd want, sent tears falling down her cheeks in a fresh stream of happiness.

"Iz," he started shakily, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he spoke. "You know I love you...and I love that we're going to be starting this family together. I know how hard this is going to be for you, how much I'm gonna have to miss and I want you to wear this ring so you never forget how much I love you, how much I need you, how much I love our baby. I want you to be able to look down at this ring everyday and remember that when I get out, I wanna marry you and I'm never gonna miss anything like this ever again. But I guess that only works if you wanna marry me too, so…will you marry me?"

He awkwardly pulled the ring from its place and gingerly slid it onto her left hand as she nodded through her tears.

"Yes," she choked out.

"Yeah?" Jax exhaled happily and slid the ring all the way onto her fourth finger.

She nodded again and he gently wiped away her tears with his free hand, closing his fingers around her neck as he leaned in to press his lips tenderly into hers.

"I love you so much," he breathed.

"I love you too...Jax...we don't have to wait, you know. We could go to the courthouse or here at the clubhouse. I don't care...but we don't have to wait until you get out. I'm not sure that I want to."

Part of her desperately wanted him to agree with her. Part of her needed this affirmation, this commitment, before he went to Stockton. But, on the other hand, wasn't the fact that he'd just proposed to her enough? He wanted to marry her. He'd gotten this beautiful, perfect ring for her. The other part of her knew that was enough for now.

"I know, babe," he whispered back to her. "But I wanna do this right. I want you to have the pretty dress and the cake and the music and the dancing and everything else that you do at weddings. You deserve that, Iz and I want you to have it. Hey, you know, this way, you've got a shit ton of time to plan us a fuckin' kickass wedding and I can't wait, babe."

There wasn't much she could argue with there. They didn't need to rush into this. The ring and the promise was enough for her. At this moment, as she leaned forward to wrap her arms around her man's neck and press her lips into the lips she knew so well, the only things on her mind were the fact that Jax had asked her to marry her and that she wasn't running for the hills. A few months ago, she would've balked at even the idea of marriage so young. But now, it felt completely natural to be wearing this ring on her left hand, to be talking about marriage and their soon-to-be family, and the future they would have together.

There was nowhere she'd rather be than here. Jax was the love of her life and come hell or high water, their future was one she had no reason to doubt.

* * *

**A/N-Sorry it took me a little bit longer to get this up, but with school starting and me really dragging my feet in writing this, my usual writing schedule was a little off with this one. Thanks again to alistensrude for giving this the okay before posting. **

**Let me know what you guys think...as always, your feedback is the best cure for writer's block there is! Thanks to everyone who's reviewed/alerted/favorited and still with this story. It really means a lot to me.**


	10. Gone

At first, she thought she was dreaming. Little pricks and tremors erupted and pulled at the inside of her stomach and in the haziness, Isabelle felt herself fighting against that dull ache. Somewhere in between sleep and consciousness, her brain went into survival mode and alerted the rest of her body that something was very, very wrong here.

Her eyes flew open and her hands subconsciously moved protectively over the thin material covering her stomach. What had started as a light tugging sensation had quickly escalated to a sharp, stabbing pain and she instinctively threw the covers aside to rush to the bathroom. With shaky hands, she yanked down her sleep shorts and her heart plummeted to her stomach at the deep, sickly reddish-brown stains on the inside of her underwear.

There was too much blood. It shouldn't look like this. It shouldn't be happening at all. She shouldn't be having cramps. This wasn't normal. Something was wrong here...the baby…

Without a second thought, she abruptly yanked her shorts back up and skidded into the bedroom, flying over to Jax's side, where he was still sleeping soundly on his stomach. Shaking him anxiously, she desperately tried to alert him.

"Jax! Jax! Wake up!"

He groaned tiredly and winced as he lifted his head. "What?"

"Jax...we have to go to the hospital. Something's wrong."

It only took a few seconds for his brain to catch up to her words because after pulling his eyes directly to her stomach, he scrambled out of bed, almost tripping over the covers. While he darted around the room for some stray clothes to throw on, she quickly changed out of her shorts into a pair of yoga pants, painfully aware that she'd already bleed through the thin fabric. When she tossed the soiled shorts haphazardly on the floor, Jax froze, his arms still raised to pull a shirt over his head, as his eyes fixed tensely on the bloodied fabric near his feet.

Quickly shaking himself out of it, his eyes shot back up to meet hers and he pressed an uneasy, albeit reassuring smile on his face.

"Come on, babe; let's go," he gestured with his head towards the door and groped for her hand, pulling her out into the hallway, and kept his hands protectively at her waist until they made it to his truck.

He promptly yanked the door open and all but lifted her into the passenger's seat before sprinting around the side. Her breath was coming in and out heavier now and she winced involuntarily as another sharp pang shot through her stomach.

"What's wrong, Iz?" he glanced at her worriedly, despite the fact that he was currently speeding through the streets.

Her shoulders tensed as she shifted anxiously in the seat, covering her stomach and squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. "It hurts, Jax...I'm not supposed to be having cramps like this. There was so much blood...you saw it, right?"

He nodded and swallowed tensely, squeezing his fists so tightly into the steering wheel his knuckles turned white.

"Drive faster, Jax," she whispered hoarsely.

Jax immediately reached over and clasped his hand tightly around her fingers, even as the engine revved up speed. "Everything's gonna be alright, Iz. It's gonna be fine."

She didn't know who he was trying to convince more...her or himself. Her entire body seemed to be on alert, conscious of every flutter, every pang that moved through her stomach and all she could think about was that she couldn't allow herself to think at all. Forcing her mind blank, she glanced down at their entwined hands and gently covered them with her free hand. His eyes darted over to her at that sudden movement and he shot her a pained, worried smile.

"Everything's gonna be fine," he murmured again.

Isabelle swallowed tightly and squeezed her eyes shut as another dull ache seeped through her stomach.

"Should we call Gemma?" Jax was asking quietly now.

She could only nod as tears pricked her eyes. Yeah, she had a feeling they were both going to need Gemma at the hospital with them and that thought made all the air whoosh out of her lungs as vicious heat spread through her chest. All she could do now was listen helplessly with a hand desperately covering her stomach as Jax hastily dialed Gemma on his prepay. He spoke to his mom in hushed, clipped whispers, hurriedly bringing her up to speed and telling her to get to the emergency room at St. Thomas as soon as possible. When she heard the words 'something's wrong' tumble out of his mouth, Isabelle sucked in a harsh breath.

It was one thing to think it. Hearing it out loud, and said by someone other than herself, was something else entirely.

Jax shot her a sideways glance as he spoke to Gemma and he seemed to sense what she was feeling. Hell, it was obvious he was feeling it himself.

When they finally reached the hospital, Jax sped through the entrance, ignoring every stop sign and speed limit warning in their path, until he skidded the truck to a stop directly in front of the emergency room's main entrance. In a flash, he shot out of the truck and sprinted around the side as an attendant met him at the passenger side door with a wheelchair. Jax carefully lifted her out of the truck and set her gingerly down in the wheelchair. When the attendant moved to take hold of the steering, Jax roughly shoved him aside and wheeled her inside the emergency room, where a nurse was already waiting for them.

When the nurse approached, Jax immediately took control of the situation and brought her up to speed. All Isabelle had to do was sit there numbly, twisting her engagement ring around her finger while Jax, following the nurse's lead, wheeled her to a section in the back of the emergency room.

After Jax helped her out of her clothes and into the hospital gown, he carefully lifted her onto the rickety bed as a doctor and their nurse pulled the curtain back to enter.

"Alright," the doctor began easily, despite the tension in the cramped space. "My name is Dr. Reynolds and I'll be your attending physician tonight. So," he gestured for Isabelle to put her feet into the stirrups as he spoke. "You're eight weeks along, correct?"

"Yes," she nodded anxiously. "We just had an ultrasound last week. Everything was fine then…"

Jax squeezed her hand supportively while Dr. Reynolds positioned himself and the fetal monitor next to them.

"When did the cramps start?"

"They woke me up, so I'm not really sure...then I went to the bathroom and saw the blood and we got here as soon as we could."

"You did the right thing in coming in tonight," Dr. Reynolds nodded tightly. "I'm going to do an ultrasound now and hopefully, we'll be able to see what's going on here."

She knew exactly what he really meant: hopefully, they would be able to see if the baby was still even in there.

"Alright, Ms. Martin, you're going to feel some slight pressure here and then we'll be able to take a look."

Isabelle winced and shifted uncomfortably on the squeaky bed but her eyes never left the ultrasound screen, waiting desperately to see something similar to what they'd seen a week ago at her gynecologist's office. Everything just seemed to stop as Dr. Reynolds searched around inside her. The screen seemed to be frozen on nothing but waves and emptiness.

As Dr. Reynolds gently removed the probe from her body, Isabelle felt all the blood draining out of her face. Everything was numb and tears had already started to slip down her cheeks. She knew what was coming now. It was only a matter of time before the doctor told them what she already knew and had known from the moment she'd jerked awake in a panic.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Reynolds looked at them somberly. "The baby's gone."

Hearing the words, the confirmation, was more painful than she'd expected. It felt like she was submerged underwater and everything felt hazy, like she'd just been shot with some sort of tranquilizer. She felt heavy, despite the way her heart thundered violently in her chest and she was vaguely aware of Jax's tortured, hoarse voice above her.

"What do you mean the baby's gone?" Jax asked desperately, his disbelief flooding into his voice. "How can it just be gone? We just saw it last week…"

"Well," Dr. Reynolds cleared his throat painfully. "Unfortunately, this is pretty common-the majority of miscarriages occur before 13 weeks, but I can't tell you the exact reason...there are many factors that contribute to it and it can be anywhere from lifestyle, stress level, chronic conditions, weight, or age. And in this particular case, I couldn't say exactly that any of those things were truly a factor."

At this point, she knew she was better off just tuning out the rest of this terrible conversation. She didn't want to hear anymore. She _couldn't_ hear anymore. Even when Jax squeezed her hand to get her attention, she just continued to stare at her toes, wishing there was a way to go back in time when things were right, when there was still a baby. Now, there was just this heaviness weighing down inside her and she didn't know how much more of this shit she could take. There was just...nothing now. Nothing but emptiness.

"I'm going to give you two a few minutes alone and then I'll be back to discuss some treatment options with you," Dr. Reynolds stood up from his stool as he spoke and nodded politely to them with genuine remorse in his eyes.

It was only when Dr. Reynolds left and when their nurse pulled the privacy curtain back in its place, that she finally allowed herself to take a deep breath for strength that never came.

"Iz," Jax called out hoarsely to her. "Iz, please look at me. Please, babe…"

She shifted her gaze away from her feet and slowly towards Jax's pale, grief-stricken face. His face twisted in anguish when their eyes met and his cobalt eyes shone with unshed tears. With a free hand buried in her hair now, he drew her to his chest, squeezing his arm around her shoulders, and leaving her no other choice but to allow herself to be comforted. Breathing him in helped a little; the familiar scent of musk and gasoline flooded her senses just enough to make her forget for a moment and that was almost enough.

Isabelle didn't know how long he held her, but before long, the nurse was pulling the curtain aside to reveal the worried, terrified faces of Gemma and Clay. Gemma hesitated for only a moment and then her maternal instincts kicked in. She was next to the bed in a flash, reaching out both hands to envelope Isabelle and Jax into her waiting arms.

But in her numbness, in her inability to feel just about anything, she was barely even able to register that human contact. She was barely aware that Clay was gently pulling Jax out into the hallway and that Gemma had all but crawled into the tiny bed with her to hold her tighter.

There was just nothing now.

* * *

The entire hallway felt like it was spinning and for a moment, Jax wasn't really sure where he was as Clay steered him towards the main exit. He felt like he was pushing through a clammy, dense fog with no hope of ever seeing daylight again. The moment that doctor had shut off the monitor and stared back at them with that tired and sad expression, he'd fleetingly wondered if this was just all some horrifying nightmare, one Isabelle would shake him awake from and then everything would just go back to normal. He'd wake up and Isabelle wouldn't be sitting catatonically on a hospital bed. He'd wake up and there would still be a baby.

He'd wake up and his life would still be all in one piece.

Now, it felt like those pieces had shattered all over the emergency room floor.

There would be no waking up from this ever.

The second he felt the cool night air on his skin, he immediately patted his jeans furiously for a pack of cigarettes. Cursing under his breath when he came up empty, he was seriously contemplating punching the closest brick wall he could find.

Then, mercifully, Clay dug into his pants and pulled out a pack of cigarettes with his lips pulled tightly into a grim line.

"I know they're not your brand," Clay told him quietly. "But your mom grabbed them before we left, thought you might need these."

Well, leave it to Gemma to think of everything, especially in a crisis. All he could do was gratefully nod as Clay held out the pack and a lighter. Once that rush of nicotine flooded through his lungs, he at least felt a little more calm. But, he had a feeling the urge to hit something was going to multiply exponentially as soon as his initial shock wore off. Because that's what he was really feeling right now: shock and complete disbelief. Fucking horror.

How could this have fucking happened to them? They were so happy...they were already making plans of how to turn that third spare bedroom into a nursery. They'd just picked out the paint and the patterns and...fuck.

Suddenly, Clay's hands were resting on the top of his shoulders.

"Jax, look at me."

Jax dutifully pulled his eyes from the cement to his stepfather and his throat tightened on impact. Clay's somber grey eyes were staring back at him sympathetically and he wanted to shake himself away so he could sprint out of the parking lot. He couldn't handle this shit. He didn't know _how_ to handle this shit. What was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to go back inside and be there for his old lady when he didn't even know how to help himself?

"Son," Clay's quiet voice somehow managed to cut through the thick tension around him. "This wasn't your fault. This wasn't anybody's fault."

Jax swallowed tightly and nodded back to him. "Yeah, I know. I know...Jesus, Clay-how the fuck did this happen? Just last fucking week, we were at the doctor, he told us everything was fine, everything was normal, and now, nothin'. How the fuck is that even possible?"

Clay shook his head soberly and squeezed his shoulder supportively. "I don't know, Jax. I wish I could say somethin' that would help you right now, but I don't think there is."

He just exhaled sharply through his nose before taking in another deep pull from the cigarette in between his fingers. Then he abruptly spiked it down into the cement and stomped on it.

Jax pulled his hands through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. "What am I supposed to do now, Clay? I don't know what to do...I don't even really know what to say. What the fuck can I say? It's gone…"

The second the words left his lips, the little control he had left faltered and tears tumbled down his cheeks. The baby was gone. When they'd went to bed that night, they were still going to parents. Everything was still okay. The hope and the happiness that had been there over having a baby, of getting married and really starting their lives together all seemed like a distant memory and he groped to find that again, to run his fingers along that glimmer of hope one more time. But it was gone now. It was all gone.

As his legs gave out on him, he stumbled backwards until his back hit the brick wall behind him and he sank down to the cement, one arm folded across his knees while the other flew up to cover his face. The tears wouldn't stop and he didn't really care. His shoulders were shaking now and it was all he could do to just keep himself sitting upright against the wall.

He was so lost in the grief, so carried away by the torrential waves crashing through him, that he barely registered Clay crouching down to his level.

"Here's what you're gonna do, Jax," Clay's hands rested calmly on his shoulders as he spoke, looking him square in the eye. "Take a few more seconds. Pull your shit together. Because there's nothing else you can do now to stop what's already happened. I know I had my doubts about her in the past, but she's strong as hell and she's a hell of an old lady. But you gotta strong for her too now, son."

Jax nodded through the final tears that slipped down his scruffy cheeks and rubbed at them with both hands. Clay was right. What the fuck was he doing here? Out here crying while Isabelle was still inside, lying on some hospital bed without him there. It didn't matter that she wasn't alone, that Gemma was still with her, because his place was right next to his old lady. Wherever she was, that's where he needed to be.

"Hey guys?" Gemma's hushed voice called out to them from the entrance's sliding doors. "The doctor's back."

Jax immediately shoved himself up to his feet and wiped his eyes one last time before following his mom back inside the emergency room. When he pushed the privacy curtain aside, he found Dr. Reynolds already inside the cramped space, but the better part of his attention slid right to Isabelle, who was staring ahead at her feet with blank, dead eyes.

Swallowing tightly, he pivoted around the corner of the bed to get next to Isabelle and tears pricked at his eyes when she stiffly reached out for his hand. He clasped his hands tightly around her fingers and brushed his lips across her knuckles. She needed to know that he was here, that he wasn't going anywhere, that he was in this with her for as long as she would have him. This didn't change anything. This didn't change the way he felt about her.

A brief ghost of a smile flashed across her beautiful, pale face. And then, just like that, it was gone.

Dr. Reynolds nodded to him politely and then over to Gemma, who was on the other side of Isabelle clinging tightly to her hand.

"I know how difficult tonight has been for you," Dr. Reynolds started slowly, genuine regret filling his quiet voice. "So, I'll make this as brief as possible, so you get home and rest. Judging by the results of the ultrasound, I see no reason why the remaining lining and fluids won't expend themselves on their own. Sometimes, we need to do a procedure to remove what's left if we feel there's risk for infection, but you came in early and since we've been monitoring you, I don't feel that procedure will be necessary."

Dr. Reynolds paused for a brief moment to consult something on his chart and as Jax cast a sideways glance at his mother, he could see the visible relief cross her face. He didn't really understand everything the doctor had just said, but if his mom's reaction was any indication, Isabelle not needing this procedure was a very good thing for everyone.

"I'm going to give you a prescription for some antibiotics, just to be on the safe side," Dr. Reynolds continued. "You'll still experience some bleeding, but for the next day or so, it should be just like a normal period. If it should get heavier or you have severe cramping again, you need to come back in immediately."

All three nodded silently.

"What about…" Isabelle whispered softly from the bed. "What about trying again? When could we…"

Jax's heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach at her words. Of course she'd want to try again. He wanted to try again. Now that he'd gotten used to the idea and had the time to actually be excited about the prospect of fatherhood, he wanted it just as much as he wanted to marry her. But in a week, he'd be gone too.

"Well, after you've had some time to rest," Dr. Reynolds continued. "I'd recommend seeing your primary physician so you can get a better consultation about that. Lots of women go through this...it's not uncommon, unfortunately, and those same women go on to have healthy, happy pregnancies afterwards when they're ready. You're both young and healthy and you've got that on your side. Now, what you're really going to need to do is go home and get some rest. Try not to move around too much for the next few days if you can help it and take an iron supplement until you start to feel more like yourself again."

"Okay," Isabelle nodded quietly. "Thank you."

Jax immediately extended his hand to the doctor. "Yeah, thanks, doc."

Dr. Reynolds smiled weakly as he shook Jax's hand. "You're welcome. I just wish I could've done more."

When the doctor left and the nurse walked them through the necessary discharge procedures, Jax was wheeling Isabelle through the emergency room again, this time towards the exit with Gemma and Clay right on his heels. His truck was still right where he left it and as he gently lifted Isabelle out of the wheelchair and into the passenger seat, he could feel her body trembling in his arms. She was trying so hard to keep it together, to be strong...he just had to get her home. Then she could just let everything go. And then he'd be there to catch her.

Gemma and Clay followed them home and, given that it was already three in the morning, he was amazed he was alert enough to get them back in their driveway without succumbing to the exhaustion and the weight of the last few hours. But, he reminded himself, they were home now and now they could rest. And grieve in the comfort of their own home.

As he jogged around the side of the truck, Clay already had the passenger side door open for him, so he gathered Isabelle in his arms and carefully carried her inside the house. When he set her gently on the edge of the bed, Gemma scrambled around the room for a fresh pair of pajamas for Isabelle, so she could get out of her yoga pants and into something more comfortable. Once Isabelle was settled secured underneath the covers, Gemma leaned forward to place a quick, tender kiss on her forehead.

"Get some rest, sweetie," Gemma told her gently. "I'll take care of that prescription for you and drop it off in the morning, okay?"

Isabelle nodded sleepily as Jax reached down to squeeze her hand.

"I'll be right back, babe."

She snuggled up to her pillow and murmured something inaudibly as he tentatively stepped away to follow his mother into the hallway. As soon as the door closed behind him, he felt his mother's warm, comforting arms encircle him and pull him close. He needed this...and he didn't. Tears pricked his eyes yet again and he quickly shook free out of her arms to compose himself. The last thing he needed to do was start crying again. That wouldn't help anything and it definitely wasn't going to help Isabelle.

"How you doin', baby?" Gemma whispered soothingly. "Can I do anything for you? Do you need anything?"

Jax blew out a breath and tugged a hand through his hair. "I just need to get some sleep, Ma."

"Right, right," she nodded quickly. "Sure, baby."

Just as Gemma turned on her heel to look for Clay, her eyes fell on the third bedroom, with its door still ajar. Then she was rushing inside and he knew exactly what she was looking for. Even though he knew it would be painful to step inside their would-be nursery, he just couldn't help himself. His hungry eyes scanned the room and his senses were immediately assaulted with what would've been housed here in this room, where the nursery would've been, where the rocking chair would've been, where that changing table Isabelle said she wanted would've been...he inhaled sharply as his brain conjured these painful images and he didn't think he could take anymore.

Gemma turned to face him with his old baby blanket and the onesie Donna had given them clutched tightly in her hands. "I can take these back to our house for now, Jax...you don't have to have them here if it'll be too much."

He shoved his hands in his front pockets and rocked back on his heels. "I don't know, Ma. Maybe you should leave them for now. I don't know what Iz wants to do with them, but maybe we should wait just in case she wants them here."

Gemma nodded sadly and carefully set the folded items back down where she'd found them. "You're right, baby. I'm sorry...I was just trying to help."

"I know, Ma; I know," he sighed. "Mom...is she gonna be okay?"

Gemma bit down on her bottom lip sadly and lifted a shoulder. "She lost a baby tonight. So did you, Jax. That's not something you can recover from overnight...at any stage. It'll take time, but it'll get better. I promise you that, baby. It'll get easier. You both just need some time to grieve this."

"What do I do?" he murmured hoarsely. "How do I help her, Mom?"

"Just hold on to her, baby. Let her cry it out," she rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "She'll be okay and so will you."

"Thanks, Mom," he exhaled wearily. "I'll call you in the morning, okay?"

"Yeah, Jax," Gemma smiled back somberly.

After he closed the front door behind Gemma and Clay, he squeezed his eyes shut and leaned heavily against it for a moment. Now that they were alone, the house felt too big, like it would collapse in on them at any given moment. And then he realized that he'd been standing here like a zombie for too long, that Isabelle had been alone for too long already. He needed to get to her; he needed to hold her; he needed to let her know that she could cry and scream and throw things and do whatever else she needed to do.

He would always be there to catch her.

* * *

Isabelle shifted uneasily in their bed, wincing at the stiff soreness in her abdomen. Was it always going to hurt this much? Was she always going to feel so...empty now? The last few hours had seemed like days, maybe even weeks, and all she wanted was for this just to be over. To feel something other than nothing again. To feel more like herself again. But she wasn't stupid. It was going to a very long time before anything felt normal again, if ever.

The door creaked open and she couldn't even bring herself to roll over to face him. She didn't have enough strength left and all she could do was burrow her face deeper into her pillow. There was some shuffling across the room and then the other side of the bed sank down as Jax gingerly laid down beside her. She could feel his rough fingers groping through her hair for her face and then she couldn't stop herself from reaching out for him until her hands brushed against his bare chest.

The second her cheek made contact with his skin, her entire body convulsed with sobs. She just couldn't hold it in any longer. There was nothing that could stop it. Nothing that could make this go away...not even Jax's tender touch or his gentle kisses in her hair. The feel of his hands on her, in her hair, pulling her against him made her forget for just a moment. For that moment, it was just the two of them in their bed, holding each other, and without the emotional baggage of this night. And then everything came rushing her around her-the searing emptiness in her stomach, the agonizing pain, the anguish of what they'd lost tonight-and another wave of sobs racked her body.

"I got you, Iz," Jax whispered into her hair. "I got you."

Her body just completely gave out on her now as tears pooled against Jax's bare chest and she was vaguely aware that he seemed to have drawn her in deeper and somehow closer against him. All she could do was bury what was left of herself against him and allow him to catch her. What else could they do?

She didn't know how long they laid there wrapped around each other. The only things her mind allowed her to focus on were his gentle massaging into her hair, his lips pressed against her forehead, and the wetness on her cheeks. She could feel slight tremors shake his body and it was then that she realized the moisture on her face and in her hair wasn't just from her grief. They'd both lost something tonight. They were both suffering...and in a week, they would both have to suffer alone.

It was with that thought that she snapped out of it a little and reached up to gently wipe his cheek clean of his fresh tears. She pulled away from him just enough to really get a good look at him and what she found sent her plummeting back to the depths of despair. His normally bright and vibrant cobalt eyes were now an ashen black, tortured and anguished, and lined with tight, red creases.

Slowly, her mind unearthed itself from the dense fog she'd fallen into and she squeezed her eyes shut. Her fingers lightly traced the skin where her name was inked on his chest and his hand quickly closed around her own.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his face fell. It seemed he couldn't come up with anything to say. And really, what was there to say? She wasn't even sure if her voice would actually work anymore, but she had to try. He deserved this, especially after the way he'd swooped in, just like he always did, and put her needs and her well-being before anything else. He'd never hesitated to reach for her, to comfort her, to kiss her, to touch her, and she knew she needed to give some of that back to him. He needed to be comforted too.

"I love you, Jax," she whispered, her voice cracking painfully.

His face twisted in anguish and then his lips pressed gently against hers.

"I love you too, Iz," he murmured against her lips. "So fuckin' much."

She knew what she wanted to ask him; she just didn't know if she could find the strength. "Is it...God, is it better that-"

"No, Iz," he interjected gently. "You don't have to go there. It's okay…"

Isabelle sucked in a sharp breath and allowed her fingers to continue their ministrations across his tattoo. "I was just starting to really get used to the idea, you know? I hadn't let myself think about what it was all going to be like when you had to go to Stockton, but I was starting to feel like we could do this, that we could be parents and maybe not completely screw it up."

He smiled sadly and his Adam's apple bobbed violently as tears welled up again in his devastated eyes.

"Can we still paint the nursery?"

Jax nodded immediately through his tears. "Absolutely, babe. We've got a week, right?"

"Right."

He grasped her fingers again in between his hands and pressed a long, meaningful kiss into her fingertips. "When I get out, Iz, we're gonna get married. We're gonna have a fuckin' helluva party and you're gonna get that white dress and the cake and whatever else you want and we can go to Hawaii or wherever you wanna go."

She laughed in spite of herself and was relieved that she really was able to feel something other than pain and numbness.

"And, Iz, we're gonna try again. When we're ready and when it's on our terms. We're gonna have a family together...as many babies as you want, Iz; you know I've got no problem makin' them with ya," he grinned back at her as she laughed again. "I know that's just one more thing we have to put on hold, but when I get out, and when I make you my wife, we're gonna have a baby and we're gonna be able to do everything the right way."

Isabelle nodded quietly and she felt her heart swell at yet another reminder why he was absolutely everything she needed. No one knew her the way he knew her and no one knew exactly what to say to turn such a black, devastating night into something hopeful the way he did. He was and always had been everything to her. With him, all the pieces of her shattered existence would be pieced back together again. It would take time, but she knew that at the end of the day, as long as she could lean on this man, who was the glue that held everything together, there would light at the end of the tunnel. There would be life after this night.

* * *

**A/N-I think it goes without saying that this was incredibly difficult to write. It was also really hard to write the previous chapter because I always knew this was going to be happening, but I wanted them to have a few more moments of happiness. This second part of Jax and Isabelle's story was never really going to be a happy one, unfortunately, but this event (along with what's coming in later chapters of this installment) will shape the people they are in the third story. That being said, I'm really looking forward to continue to develop these characters and their relationship through this story and the third one (possibly even a fourth!). **

**So, please let me know your thoughts/reactions/predictions. I know this was a particularly painful one, but your feedback is always greatly appreciated. **


	11. The Space Between

The music thumped in her ears, effectively drowning out everything else, but the beat, the paint, and the canvas. Her brush swirled and swayed to the rhythm and she wondered fleetingly if what she was doing right now could really be categorized as art. Leaning back to study the muddied shapes on the canvas, she cringed at the sight. Not her best work. That was for sure. But, then again, she technically didn't have to be working right now anyways. Jax had seen to that when he'd personally spoken to Dr. Jacobs, and, without going into too much detail, had made it very clear that she wouldn't be attending classes or her studio hours for the rest of the week.

She'd vehemently protested staying away from campus for that long, but she'd also quickly realized that was a battle she'd never win. Initially, she'd thought the time off would free up the rest of the week to spend with Jax, given that Stockton was literally breathing down their necks. But the day after they'd lost the baby, she'd retreated to the second bedroom, quietly avoiding having to get too close to the third one, and shut the door behind her. There was nothing else she could do; nothing else that would drown out her pain.

It had been three days and she'd spent most of that time right here, perched on her tiny stool as she attempted to exorcise the demons that threatened to consume her. Which also meant that her interactions with Jax had really been few and far between. He was giving her the space she craved right now and she knew it...but, the timing couldn't possibly have been worse. Jax was due to report at Stockton in three days and here they were, as far apart as ever.

With a sigh, she gingerly set her paintbrush down and rubbed her hands anxiously against her thighs. Shutting him out wasn't going to help anything. And now that they were staring down a year long separation, this distance was only going to make things worse. It certainly wasn't going to make anything better.

What she really needed right now was for everything just to go back to normal. But, the problem was, with all these impending changes in her life, she had no idea how to define normal anymore. While she was healing physically-the bleeding and the soreness had went away after about a day-and her doctor had given her the okay to return to 'normal' activities with one big exception, her life had been forever altered. And now, she was just piling on one change after another.

The idea of having to confront these changes and work through this emptiness without Jax there beside her was excruciating. How could she possibly expect to heal without being able to lean on the other half of her soul? How could she possibly expect to move on without Jax moving in step beside her? In three days, Jax was going to be gone too...how would she ever be able to survive a whole year with only seeing him once a week for 45 minutes?

That last thought was all the motivation she needed to propel her out of this room and out into the rest of the house. She hadn't seen Jax since earlier this morning, when they'd had a quiet, almost awkward breakfast. Their interactions had been tentative at best, with Jax mostly treating her like glass and with her mostly keeping her distance.

She was so goddamn tired...of everything...and all she wanted was to be able to hit the rewind button. To go back to before she even realized she was pregnant. Before Jax got arrested. Before Becca turned on the club. Life had seemed so much simpler then because it was.

Still, some effort had to be made before they ran out of time and she knew she needed to be the one to do it. Jax was giving her what he thought she wanted and, maybe that initially was what she wanted, it wasn't what she needed anymore. He was always so thoughtful and giving and attentive and sometimes, he spent a little too much time on what he _thought_ was best for her instead of what was _actually_ best. And even though his intentions were good, the time for separation was over.

So, she padded carefully down the hallway, keeping a watchful eye out for his familiar blonde head. After circling every room in the house and peeking down to the basement, he had to either be outside in the yard or in the garage. There was no way he'd leave without coming to find her first, so he was around here somewhere. Now, it was just a matter of finding him.

Figuring he was most likely working on his bike or something along those lines, she gingerly stuck her head out the door to peer into the garage. She found him in the middle of the garage, crouched down next to his Dyna as he cranked a wrench on one of the gauges. It was hard not to see him like this, in just a pair of red Nike shorts with sweat and grease streaked across his bare chest, and not drop everything to wrap her legs around his waist. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed him until just now...

That familiar stirring pulled at her insides and she had to swallow down the urge to sprint towards him. While her doctor had cleared her for things like exercising and general day-to-day activities, sex was not on that list yet and it wouldn't be for another week or so, which was really a week too late. Still, she found herself chewing absentmindedly on her bottom lip, eyes focused on the taut muscles displayed for her pleasure, as she started towards him.

His head turned at the sound of her barefooted shuffling and his eyebrows flew up into his forehead when his clear blue eyes focused on her. The wench in his hand immediately found the cement floor and then he was up on his feet, wiping his grease-stained hands on an equally greasy towel, as he cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Hey, babe," he called out to her as she slowly closed the distance between them. "I thought you'd be workin' a little longer."

"I did too," she shrugged. "But it was starting to look like a huge blob of nothing so...I thought I'd come out here and see what you were up to."

Unfortunately, her description of her latest 'project' was painfully accurate and she supposed it made sense that her emotions had manifested themselves the way they did. The emptiness rolling around inside her was close to a mirror image of the mash of paint on the canvas. Maybe it wasn't exactly a huge blob of nothingness after all.

"Okay," Jax nodded softly and ran a hand over his scruff.

They stood there awkwardly for a few long moments and she chewed on her lip as he nervously tugged a hand through his hair. He was just standing there looking so hesitant, not wanting to make the first move, and wanting to give her whatever she needed-but not completely sure what that exactly was-and she couldn't wait any longer. All she needed right now was just to be close to him.

So she closed the remaining distance separating them and wrapped her arms around his neck. For a moment, he seemed frozen by her touch. Then a beat later, his calloused hands grazed her waist before pulling her flush against him as he buried his face in her neck. With a deep exhale, she leaned into him, reveling in the feel of his bare skin against her cheek and couldn't stop the sparking sensations flaring up in between her legs.

One of his hands was gently massaging her head now as he drew her in closer and she squeezed her eyes shut. Their foreheads found their way to each other and she swallowed tightly. She lifted her head just enough to search for his lips and carefully pressed her lips into his. Jax jumped a little at the sudden contact, but it only took him a moment to recover from his initial surprise.

Then his lips were moving over hers with more fervor as his hands closed gently around her face. What had started as something sweet and almost innocent, quickly escalated to hungry, needy taking and when his tongue slipped in between her lips, she moaned softly into his mouth. Her hands slid around his waist, lingering dangerously around the waistband of his shorts, and she was vaguely aware that he was backing her towards the workbench housed in the back of the garage.

Even though she knew in the back of her consciousness that this couldn't really go much further than what they were doing now, at least not on her end, she didn't want to stop. She honestly couldn't remember the last time they'd just kissed like this...with no real endgame towards the bedroom or the counter or the couch or the shower. There was something so intimate about it, even more so because they were still, mostly, clothed. As Jax's lips moved over hers, he tasted sweeter than she remembered, almost like candy, and that light-headed, dizzy feeling made her knees tremble underneath her.

When she bumped up against the workbench, Jax's hands gently closed around her ass to lift her up until she was perched on the edge. He pulled back just enough, breaking their contact, so he could grin down at her as he stepped in between her parted thighs.

"I missed you, Iz," he whispered huskily against her lips.

"I missed you too, Jax," she breathed, letting her forehead fall forward. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't, babe," he cut in softly. "Don't be sorry. You got nothin' to be sorry about."

His fingers tenderly grazed her cheek and she shivered from the feel of his hands on her. Was it terrible that she'd almost forgotten what that felt like? She'd been too lost inside her own prison that she hadn't even really thought about what he must be feeling right now, especially when he would be going to an actual prison in three days. All the time she'd spent wallowing probably would've been better spent clinging to him. The hours left with him were just ticking away needlessly and they hadn't really used this time to not only grieve together, but to just spend time together.

It was time to make up for some of that now.

Her lips curved up sadly as her heart twisted in her chest. She leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. When he kissed her back slowly, she knew he was going to let her set the pace here. So, with newfound resolve, her fingers wound themselves through his hair as she gripped his neck to pull him in closer.

She grinned against his lips when he groaned into her mouth. Their tongues twisted and tangled as her hands drifted lower to the front of his shorts until she gripped the hardness she found there firmly in her right hand. Jax jerked his hips backwards, as if he'd been burned, and immediately shook his head.

"Babe," he panted breathlessly. "We can't do that...the doc said-"

"I know what my doctor said, Jax, so do yourself a favor and shut up," she bit down on her bottom lip to hide her smile.

His eyebrows pulled back into a frown, but allowed her hand to dip inside his waistband without anymore protest. When her fingers closed around him, his eyes fluttered shut at the contact.

"But what will the neighbors think," he murmured, his eyes still squeezed shut.

Isabelle chuckled as her hand stroked him up and down, the way she knew he loved it. The fact that they were doing this with the garage down wide open couldn't have mattered less. Besides, his back was essentially hiding the majority of what was going down here-so why not?

"Fuck the neighbors."

* * *

Jax lounged back leisurely against their kitchen counter as he watched Isabelle bend down into the refrigerator. A slow, lazy smile spread across his lips at the sight before him. She really knew how to work those yoga pants...and then, a moment later, the smile slipped from his face. In three days, this would all just be a distant memory, one he would have to cling to just to get through each hour, let alone each day.

He knew he wasn't doing himself any favors by letting his mind go there. They needed to make the most of the time they had left...not sit around and feel sorry for themselves. That wouldn't help anything. And it sure as fuck wouldn't make the sting of the loss they'd just suffered go away anytime soon.

If he was still reeling from the proverbial rug that had been ripped out from under them, he couldn't even begin to imagine what Isabelle was feeling. So, without much else he could do, he never interrupted her time inside that second bedroom and let her do whatever she needed to do. Maybe that wasn't exactly the way he would prefer to spend their last few days together, but there was no way he was going to push her into doing anything she wasn't ready for just yet.

But, their little escapade in the garage-which had completely thrown him for a loop-told him that maybe he needed to give a little bit more than just distance now. She was reaching out to him and he'd be an idiot not to reach back.

So, with that thought, he pushed off of the counter and stalked towards her, running his hands along her waist. Isabelle yelped out in surprise, jerked backwards and playfully swatting away his searching fingers. Not one to give up too easily, he just slid his hands around her waist until he pulled her flush against his bare chest. His lips found her cheek and he let them linger on her skin as his lips trailed leisurely down her neck.

Her head tilted to one side, giving him full access to what he wanted and he heard her exhale happily. His heart just about leapt through his chest at the sound. It had been way too long since he'd heard or seen anything remotely resembling happiness from his old lady. At this point, he was willing to do or say just about anything to keep this going...and that had nothing to do with the physical part of their predicament. Sure, he'd felt a sharp pang of disappointment the second he'd made the connection that he'd have to wait a year to have sex with Isabelle again...well, more than a pang. More like a million pangs. But that was something he could live with. After all, it wasn't anybody's fault and definitely not something Isabelle could help.

But he'd missed her feather-light touch on his skin, her soft, plump lips against his, the feel of her body curled into him...those were the things he was really going to miss. And holding on to the memories of those things was going to get him through this next year. That was the only way he was ever going to survive without her.

His lips continued their exploration of her soft, sweet skin, revelling in this rediscovery, until a faint buzzing from the kitchen countertop tore his attention away from her. He groaned into her skin before placing one last kiss on her neck, then begrudgingly unwound his hands from around her waist. With a sigh, he snatched his prepay off the counter and flipped it open. This had better be fucking important…

"Hello?" he answered in a clipped voice.

"Hello, Jax," Samuel Martin's pained voice rang out from the other side. "I'm sorry to bother you-I just tried Isabelle and she didn't answer."

"Don't worry about it," he replied coolly, very aware that Isabelle was now standing right in front of him. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"I...uh, I'm actually parked in your driveway. Oh Jesus, look, I should just leave-"

"What?"

Isabelle frowned in front of him and he wasn't exactly sure how much of this she'd gotten.

"I just…" Samuel started again shakily. "I just wanted to see Isabelle, to see how you both were doing, but I should've called before actually coming over. I don't know what I was thinking-"

"It's okay, Jax," Isabelle sighed next to him. "He can come in if he wants."

Jax chewed on his bottom lip in thought, searching Isabelle's face for a sign that this was really for the best. It was hard to say...since he'd called Isabelle's dad to give him the news, Samuel had kept his distance and hadn't pushed. While he didn't even want to try to guess what had possessed Samuel to just show up here out of the blue, he figured Samuel should be allowed to pay his condolences, if that's really what he wanted to do. After all, he'd lost a grandchild too, just the same as Gemma and Clay. Shouldn't he be allowed to grieve too?

So he just nodded to Isabelle and replied quickly into the phone, "Alright, come on in then."

He snapped the phone shut, eyes still focused intently on his old lady in front of him. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. Maybe she needed more time. Maybe-

Before he even had a chance to finish that thought, the doorbell rang. Isabelle jumped a little at the sound and he quickly stepped forward to press a tender kiss on her forehead before heading towards the front door to let her dad in. The second Jax swung open the door, he knew this probably wasn't such a good idea. It was hard to justify putting Isabelle through this just so her dad could say...whatever it was he came here to say.

But he never had an opportunity to nip this in the bud because Isabelle was ducking underneath his arm to put herself directly in front of her father. They stared blankly at each other and for a moment, he wasn't sure he was even breathing anymore. Then, Samuel reached out to gather Isabelle against him. Her arms stiffly lifted up until they rested tentatively against his arms, gingerly allowing him to comfort her-even if she didn't necessarily want it.

It never failed to amaze him how selfless Isabelle could be...even to a fault. There was only so much a person could handle and as far as he knew, Isabelle had hit her breaking point days ago and for good fucking reason. She didn't need to be doing this right now. She didn't need to be comforting her dad right now too. Not when they had more important things to worry about.

When Samuel finally pulled away and Isabelle shuffled backwards until her back rested lightly against Jax's chest, he wasn't sure what to do next. Part of him felt like the natural next step was to invite her dad inside. The other part of him wanted to tell Samuel he'd gotten what he needed and now it was time to leave. Unfortunately, he also wasn't sure if that was really his call to make here.

"Thanks for coming by, Dad," Isabelle murmured hoarsely.

Jax instinctively moved his hands protectively to her waist, not giving a shit if her dad was right there. This was their house and Samuel was, at least in his opinion, an uninvited guest.

"Sure, Isabelle," Samuel smiled back sadly. "I just wanted to see how you were doing and...thank you for letting me."

"Sure," she nodded back slowly. "Do you want to come in...I think this is the first time you've actually been here. So do you want to…?"

Isabelle cast him a quick sideways glance, as if to ask silent permission and he just shrugged. There wasn't a whole lot he could really do or say here. So when Isabelle stepped around him, gesturing for her dad to come inside, all he could do was follow her lead. He trailed quietly behind them as Isabelle gave her dad a quick tour of their house, carefully ignoring the third bedroom, and when they found their way into the kitchen, the atmosphere had quickly morphed from somber to awkward. He had no idea which was worse.

Samuel silently sat down on the chair Isabelle directed him to and Jax dropped down into the chair across from him. While Isabelle resumed her role as hostess and rummaged around the counters for some glasses, Jax was having a hard time keeping his knees from bouncing underneath the table. Sitting here like this, with this awkward tension, was just another extension of their agony. Just one more reminder of what they'd had and what they'd lost.

When Isabelle carefully set a glass of iced tea in front of them and then quietly took the empty seat between them, she looked as uncomfortable as he felt. She was chewing on the side of her cheek, a gesture he knew well and one he also knew meant she was working through what to do next. If only there was a simple answer for that…

Samuel cleared his throat. "So...what's the plan now, then?"

Jax's eyes flew directly to Isabelle's father at those words and he couldn't stop the way they narrowed suspiciously. This type of question was usually reserved for situations when plans went awry-like if a club deal were to suddenly go off the rails and they had to scramble to come up with something else. This wasn't one of those times. They'd lost a baby. And while they hadn't originally planned on starting a family just yet, the finality was excruciating to bear. They'd never get that baby back no matter how many other babies they had together. There would always be the one that didn't make it. The one they never got to meet. They couldn't just go back to the drawing board and find a way to salvage the situation.

It was already fucking over.

"Well," Isabelle started shakily. "Nothing's really changed, Dad. I'm not sure…"

"I just meant...I'm sorry, maybe I didn't say it quite right, but I was just wondering if your original plans were still on. I mean, if you were still moving ahead with the wedding plans or…"

"We are," Isabelle replied tersely, her features tensing with each clipped syllable. "Like I said, nothing's changed."

"Okay," Samuel held up a quick hand. "That's what I figured; I just wanted to be sure."

Isabelle stared back at her dad with a withering expression. "Right."

Samuel glanced up at Jax, and, when he found zero support, shifted his eyes back down to the glass in his hand. It wasn't lost on him that Isabelle was clenching and unclenching her left hand in her lap; not so much because that was the hand with her engagement ring on it, but because the jagged scar on her palm was a constant reminder of what her dad had put her through.

"Well," Samuel was saying now as he rubbed his hands on his thighs. "I should probably be going now. I've impeded on enough of your time...I just wanted to-well, I'm truly sorry for what you're both going through."

To her credit, Isabelle pressed a sad smile on her beautiful face. "Thanks, Dad."

"I just...I never wanted this for you, sweetheart," he went on and Jax felt Isabelle still before he saw it. "Maybe it's better this way, you know?"

Isabelle paled as her entire face turned to stone. Jax made a mad grab for her hand, but she was shoving out of her chair before he could make contact.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Dad?" Isabelle spat, fire sparking out of her eyes.

Samuel's mouth opened to speak and then quickly snapped it shut as the weight of his error finally dawned in his grey eyes. "Isabelle, I'm sorry...I didn't mean-"

"Oh, you didn't mean it was better for us to lose the baby now, before Jax has to go to prison? Before I'd be all alone, right? Is that what you didn't mean? Or you didn't mean that it's for the best that you won't have a Samcro grandchild now?" She spat viciously.

Samuel may have flinched at the impact of her venomous words, but he didn't deny it either.

"Isabelle," her dad held a hand out to her, but she was already backpedalling down the hall. "Please-"

"Get out of my house, Dad!" Isabelle threw back at him, her chest heaving violently as her eyes welled up with tears.

Jax was up and out of his seat in a flash, but Isabelle was already half-way down the hall, backpedalling straight for her studio.

"Isabelle, I'm sorry...I-" Samuel called out desperately.

"Just stop, Dad; just stop and get the hell out."

With that, Isabelle slammed the door to her studio behind her. In a few quick strides, Jax was pounding heavily on the door and shook the locked door knob.

"Come on, Iz," he called to her. "Don't do this, babe. Can you please just come back out here, so we can talk this shit out?"

When he was met with nothing but silence, Jax leaned his forehead briefly against the door and exhaled wearily. She probably had her earbuds in already and was completely oblivious to what he'd just said...or she was just purposefully ignoring everything outside the door. He ran a hand over his face as he turned back on his heels to face Samuel, who was watching him with a pained, worried expression.

"I'm sorry, Jax," Samuel murmured sadly. "I never should've come over...let alone just shown up here."

Jax just shook his head and shoved his hands into his front pockets as he shuffling back down the hallway to where Samuel was standing near the kitchen.

"It's alright," he reassured Isabelle's dad weakly. "I know you didn't mean to upset her."

Samuel leaned back against the wall dejectedly and scrubbed his face with his hands. "It doesn't matter if I meant to or not. It still happened. She still locked herself up in that bedroom over there because of me. I just need to stop doing this."

"Stop doing what?" Jax frowned, eyeing the man in front of him carefully.

"I can't just keep coming in and out of her life like this, Jax," he sighed. "I haven't earned it anyways. I've done nothing but create chaos in her life. Even when she was in high school...I pushed law school on her without ever asking what she wanted. I never supported her art or her talent. Last year, I just completely shut down. I hurt her. I deserted her...and now, I've rubbed salt in an open wound, just because I tried to help her, but I have no idea what to do to help her anymore."

He paused for a moment to glance Jax's way and there wasn't much he could say. Everything he said was true. Isabelle's life would be easier, less stressful, if her father had made different decisions, if he'd handled his shit better. And he wasn't really sure that Samuel deserved any consoling in a situation like the one they found themselves in. He'd come in their house, mostly uninvited, and had driven Isabelle to enraged tears. That wasn't something he could forgive or take lightly...but at the same time, something in the spaces between Samuel's words struck a nerve.

"Maybe I should just step back completely," Samuel was saying now. "Maybe I should just give her the space and the time she needs without pushing anything on her. It's such a terrible thought but...I just don't think I'm any good for her, Jax."

Jax swallowed tightly and rubbed his mouth with a hand. Those words sunk deep and he could feel their weight settling down on his spine. The pressure of those words squeezed his insides and twisted around in his stomach.

"The last thing she needs right now is me in her life, anyways," Samuel went on sadly. "And I don't want to do anything to keep her from healing, so I'm going to step away. So...could you tell her that for me? I know she won't want to talk to me, but I want her to know that I won't bother her anymore. Not until she wants me to, at least."

"Alright," he replied hoarse with a tense nod. "If that's what you really want me to do."

"I think it's the best thing for her right now. She can't be around me and do any sort of healing-I'm just going to mess up again. Just like I always do."

"Alright."

There really wasn't anything else he could say. What else could he say to this man, who was also his old lady's father, that had legitimate reasons for feeling the way he did? There was nothing to argue about here and there was truth in every word he'd said. The problem for him, though, was that those same words had hit him hard. He didn't want to see himself in them. He didn't want to understand, on an innate, basic level, the truth in those words. How many times had he almost let himself entertain those exact same thoughts and then, when the reality was too difficult to confront, pushed it down and away? His thoughts traitorously drifted back to the day the ATF brought in the old ladies for questioning and the conversation he'd had with Ope in his backyard over cigarettes and beer.

Even when Samuel was long gone, and Isabelle had unearthed herself from her studio, he still couldn't shake the uneasiness building in his chest. With Stockton staring him in the face, he couldn't push these thoughts away anymore. He had to face them head-on. And as Isabelle nuzzled her face into his bare chest that night in their bed, all he could do was hold her tight as his mind finally went where he'd never truly allowed it to go before.

Samuel had had his fair share of complete and reprehensible fuck-ups where Isabelle was concerned, but how was he any better? Because of decisions he'd made for the club, not for her, he was putting them through a year long separation. One that involved visitation and him sitting in an orange jumpsuit across from her for 45 minutes a week. That was beyond less than ideal.

He was asking her, without even really saying the words, to essentially put her life on hold while she waited for him to get out of prison. Not to mention the devastating loss they'd just suffered...and were still suffering. How could he expect her to heal if she had to wait a whole year just to spent more than an hour with him at a time? She was going to be alone for so long...was he just creating chaos, too? Was he just coming in, uninvited, and wreaking havoc on her ability to move forward?

His involvement with the club was never going to change. And while he knew Isabelle had known about said involvement and had chosen to be with him anyways, that didn't mean she should've. That didn't mean she deserved to be subjected to anymore of the shit that being involved with the club brought on. Because of him.

She wouldn't have to deal with this if it weren't for him. She would be able to be a normal art student in LA if it weren't for him and she definitely wouldn't have stayed in Charming. And who the fuck knew what was going to happen once he took the gavel or even before? Maybe that fucking ATF agent had been right all along: maybe this life was just a bitter, fucking cycle. If the baby was still a reality, he would've missed the whole damn thing and she would've lost the experience she deserved to have.

Even though he was only going in for a year now, it could be longer next time and there would be a next time. There was no probably about it. Even if that didn't happen until years from now, the next time, she would be alone with their kids. Their children would have to be without their father and she would have to explain why they could only see him once a week.

Isabelle didn't deserve that kind of life. No one did. It just didn't seem fucking fair to put her through that. So, the question was simple: was she better off without him? Was he just being selfish by keeping her with him?

The answer to those questions weren't ones he was ready to think about just yet. He loved her...so fucking much, but what could he possibly give her? Didn't she deserve more than visitation hours and a lifetime of worrying about the safety of everyone she loved? At what point did keeping her also mean hurting her? If he could spare her even a moment of pain...shouldn't he make sure she was as happy, healthy, and safe as possible? And as he squeezed his arms around Isabelle's sleeping form, trying desperately to memorize every movement, every curve, every touch, he knew that pretty soon, he was going to run out of ways to hide from the answers to those questions.

* * *

**A/N-I can't even begin to tell you guys how amazing the feedback was for the last chapter. I was really nervous about posting it and I'm glad that, despite the difficult content, that it fit the characters/story in a realistic way. **

**We're past the halfway point now with this story (well, more than half actually) and things are about to go downhill pretty quickly. I'm really looking forward to hearing your thoughts/theories/comments because they always keep me motivated. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed/favorited/alerted!**


	12. The Push

Time inside seemed to move fast and slow. There were days where Jax felt the excruciating passing of each second until it felt like his mind was going numb. And then there were days where his mind was moving so quickly he barely noticed any time had passed at all. As much as he hated to admit it, having a few brothers in the pen with him helped. Having someone to watch your back, especially more than one, did wonders for his peace of mind. Of course, it didn't really do much for his conscience, considering that Ope, in particular, had had a hell of a lot to leave behind.

The first week had been the hardest. All the goodbyes, the adjustment to life inside, figuring out which guard was on their side and which fellow inmates could be trusted, and hell, even the routine had been an adjustment. He was generally used to keeping his own schedule and doing shit on his own time, so his body had had a difficult time adjusting to 'inmate schedule'. He ran a hand over his shorn, buzzed head with a sigh...that was just one more adjustment. It wasn't exactly a fashion statement as much as it was a necessity of prison life. Long hair gave anyone who wanted to fuck with him easy access and why make it easy?

But that wasn't the most difficult adjustment he'd had to endure. In the month he'd been in Stockton, Isabelle had never strayed far from his thoughts. At first, he'd spent the better part of his time alternating between restraining himself from punching anything he could get his hands on and from sobbing like a baby. Both battles were equally hard-won and even though he was very aware that any hint of tears would land him in a world of trouble here, that was the hardest battle to fight.

Every time he closed his eyes, her face flashed across his mind. Her beautiful smile, so full of life, her vibrant blue eyes, the deepest blue he'd ever seen, the feel of her soft skin against his, her warm, lean body curled up next to him, flowers and vanilla...all of it crashed over him in waves and he couldn't stop it even if he wanted to.

When he'd left their house one month earlier to report to Stockton-he hadn't wanted to put her through seeing him handcuffed and led behind those steel doors with a guard behind him-she'd been so fucking strong. Tears may have welled up in her eyes, but he never saw any fall. She'd hugged and kissed him fiercely, whispering in his ear that she'd see him in a week and that she loved him. There wasn't much more that could be said.

And for the past three Sundays, she'd dutifully sat across from him at their assigned table during the 45 minutes they were allowed. The last three visits, she'd come with Gemma and Donna, who also brought Ellie along, but today, he knew his mother wouldn't be among the visitors for Samcro's inmates. He knew this because he'd called her the day before and asked her for some time alone with Isabelle. While it had taken more than a little convincing on his part, given that this week was his birthday, Gemma eventually relented, begrudgingly acknowledging that he was entitled to a little time alone with his fiance if that was what he needed.

He winced inwardly at that thought, but pushed it down. There wasn't any point in torturing himself over something that had to be done. That needed to be done. That was absolutely the right thing to do.

"Yo, Jax!"

Jax turned his head at the voice and found Juice staring back at him expectantly.

"You gonna get in on this game or what?" Juice yelled back at him from across the court, twirling the basketball in his hand as he spoke.

"Nah," Jax called back with a wave of his hand. "I'll catch you guys later."

Juice just shrugged and tossed the ball to Chibs, who dribbled down a few paces for a lay-up. Jax turned to lay back down on the bench and purposefully avoided eye contact with Opie, who had moved to spot him. Without a word, he lifted the barbell and did his set of bench presses, adding a few more reps in just because he felt like being particularly masochistic today. When the barbell was back in place, Jax blew out an exhausted breath and pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"So," Opie called out to him quietly. "Is today the day, brother?"

Jax blew out a deep breath and threw him a glance over his shoulder. "Does it matter, Ope?"

"Sure it does," Opie shrugged nonchalantly. "'Cuz if it is, I'd like to make sure Donna and me are sitting as far away from you as possible today."

Right. Well, he figured the last thing he wanted to do was ruin Opie's visit with his wife and kid, in addition to the hell he was about to put himself and Isabelle through. Might as well try to salvage the visit for one of them.

"Well, in that case, maybe you should rethink your reserved table today," Jax muttered over his shoulder.

"You sure you wanna do this, brother?"

Jax swallowed tightly. If he was being completely honest with himself, he wasn't really sure of anything anymore, but fuck if he'd ever admit it out loud.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Maybe you wait another week, you know? See how you feel then...just have a good visit, give her a hug and a kiss and keep thinkin' on it."

Everything Ope said made sense. It was logical and practical and probably what he should really be doing today instead. But his mind was already made up. He'd come to the resolution that if he didn't do it now, before he lost the nerve, he never would. And then Isabelle would keep coming and she'd keep waiting and he'd keep putting her in this position.

There was nothing about what he had to do today that was going to pleasant for him. But it was something that needed to happen. He needed to let her go. He couldn't let her waste her time and her life on him anymore. She'd already lost too much and suffered enough. Even though he knew today was just going to cause more pain and heartache, in the end, it would spare her a lifetime of what would be coming her way if she stayed tied to him.

All he was doing was weighing her down, creating chaos and unbalance in her life, and she didn't deserve that. She deserved a life where she didn't have to constantly worry, where she didn't have to visit her man in jail, where she didn't have to wonder when the other shoe was going to drop again.

Breaking these ties wasn't going to be easy and he knew she was going to fight him every step of the way. He knew her well enough to know that she wasn't going take this lying down. And that was exactly what he loved about her. She'd never been afraid to call him on his shit and today would be no exception. Today, however, wasn't about him. This wasn't about him being selfish and trying to keep her with him because he was too chickenshit to do the right thing.

He couldn't continue to wreak havoc on her life. He couldn't continue to put her in harm's way.

The only thing that was going to propel him forward today was the knowledge that after the initial anger and pain he was going to cause her, she would move on. She would get over him and find someone who could give her more than he ever possibly could-as much as just the thought her being with someone else made him want to vomit, it was exactly what needed to happen. She couldn't get lost in the endless cycle of violence and danger that encompassed his life. There was no way in hell he was going to let her waste another moment.

None of this changed how he felt about her. This time inside had provided him a sort of frightening clarity and there was no going back now. And if he was being completely honest with himself, he knew that he loved Isabelle more than he loved anything, more than his brothers, more than the club, more than his mother, and more than himself. But no matter how much he tried, no matter what he did, the outlaw life would be one he'd never be able to shake. He didn't know how to do anything else, how to be anything else, and that would never be good enough for Isabelle. He was a criminal and he would always be one. It was as simple as that.

At this point, it wasn't even about his father's legacy or his responsibility to his brothers...he didn't have any other options in life other than outlaw; it was all he knew and all he would ever know. Isabelle, on the other hand, had the potential for a beautiful future and staying here in Charming, with him, would turn it into an ugly nightmare.

So because he couldn't get them both out, he had to see Isabelle safely to the other side of the shore, away from this chaos. Living without Isabelle wasn't something he'd allowed himself to think about just yet, but he knew what he was setting himself up for: a lifetime of dissatisfaction and a lifetime of disconnect. There would never be anyone else for him; there would never be a woman that meant what Isabelle meant to him, but this wasn't about him anymore.

It was a small price to pay for making sure Isabelle had everything she deserved and everything he'd never be able to give her.

He couldn't continue to be the reason she was constantly held back and constantly putting her life on hold and at risk. There were no other options and even though the lies he was going to have to tell her would sting like a bitch, he didn't have a choice anymore.

This was the best thing for her right now and that was the only thought trailing behind him as he walked up to check in for visiting hours.

* * *

Isabelle sighed tiredly as the guard stiffly took her purse from her. The procedure had quickly become routine, right down to the minute. Everything ran on a tight schedule around here, at least where visitation was concerned, and she supposed it had to be. That was really the only way to keep things fair and really the only way to ensure that no one was doing anything stupid.

But, as she cast a sideways glance at Donna, who held Ellie bundled up against her shoulder, the wives, mothers, girlfriends, and fiances were used to this by now. She was used to a guard searching her and her belongings, used to walking through metal detectors, and adhering to strict rules about contact with the man she loved. Not that she liked it, but still. After only a month in, it was quickly becoming exactly what it was: routine.

Eleven more months of this...Jesus, how was she going to do this and stay sane?

The answer to that, of course, was in the question. She just had to. There was no other way around it and somewhere, in the back of her mind, she'd always known the predicament she and Jax found themselves in now was a stark possibility. She'd just never believed it would be a reality. Never let herself think that she'd be sitting here, waiting to visit him in prison. But here she was and as she passed through the final threshold and the guard, who nodded to her, there Jax was.

He wasn't seated at the usual table where they'd normally had their visits and instead, seemed to be as far away from everyone else as possible. Clad in the usual orange jumpsuit, he sat stoicly at the table with his hands folded in front of him. She smiled faintly as she approached...his new haircut was still something she was adjusting to and she still had to look twice just to make sure it was really him. It certainly wasn't a bad change; it just made him that much more drop-dead gorgeous and if anything, fit this new role. He looked like a badass and it made him seem harder, tougher-definitely more mature-than when he'd worn it past his chin. The only thing that really sucked was that she really, really wanted to run her hands along the buzzed edges of his head, but that just wasn't in the cards for a very long time.

That was really the thing she missed the most. Just touching him, feeling him next to her, feeling his lips on her skin, breathing in the musky leather scent that belonged to just him...every morning she woke up and rolled over to run her hands along that emptiness and couldn't help but feel empty too. It was hard not to; as much as she tried, it was next to impossible to walk anywhere in their house and not feel the weight of Jax's absence. He lingered everywhere and in everything.

So when she approached the table and he stood to greet her, it took all of her willpower to keep from throwing herself in his arms. When she got close enough to wrap her arms around him, the typical warmth she was used to seeing in his eyes wasn't there. He was smiling, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Well...of course his new living arrangement was starting to take its toll. How could it not? She couldn't really blame him for looking so tired and off-balance, but that didn't mean she liked seeing the by-products of this predicament weighing him down. It was just going to make having to leave him in 45 minutes that much harder.

As she gingerly wrapped her arms around his neck and felt his hands carefully graze her waist, she desperately clung to him for as long as she could, before she knew a guard would pull them away from each other.

"Hey baby," she murmured into his ear, her lips searching immediately for his. "I missed you."

"Hey Iz," Jax whispered back against her lips. "I missed you too."

He released her almost immediately, rubbed his hands anxiously on his thighs, and then dropped back down across from her. Even as she eased down onto the bench, she could feel the shift between them. She stared back at him, searching for the cause behind this shift and instinctively knew that this was more than just the effects of prison life. Something else was going on...she knew his expressions like she knew the back of her hand and right about now, the steeled, near-blank resolve in his eyes sent her heart plunging down into her stomach.

Isabelle swallowed tightly and leaned forward. "So...happy birthday, baby."

A ghost of a smile flashed across his handsome features and then just like that, it was gone.

"Thanks, babe. Ope let me win at horse, so I guess that was probably the best birthday present I could ask for, given the circumstances."

She chuckled and pressed a smile to her face. "Well, it was about time he started letting you win."

"Right," Jax smirked. "Gotta win somehow."

It was right on the tip of her tongue to tell him she was sorry she wasn't there, that she couldn't see him on his birthday, but the words died in her throat. There was absolutely nothing either of them would gain from that. Better just to let the words stay right where they were.

"You know," she switched gears entirely, trying to pull the focus away from what they were both missing. "I'm still having a hard time gettin' used to your new hairstyle...I swear I had to look twice today just to make sure it was you."

He reflexively, almost self-consciously, ran a hand over his buzzed head and she sighed a little, wishing she could do the same.

"I'm startin' to get used to it, I guess," he admitted sheepishly. "Still kinda weird though."

"I like it," she smiled back sadly and he flashed her a brief, hesitant smirk in response.

They sat there like that for a few long, silent moments as Jax quickly averted his eyes away from her and onto anything else his eyes could find. Why was it so difficult to find something to say? They hadn't seen each other in a week and because she missed him like hell, shouldn't she be able to come up with...something? But the problem was that the longer she sat across from him, the more she felt like everything was about to come crashing down around them, like it hadn't already.

With a quick, heavy sigh, Jax leaned forward and bit down on his lip. "Look, Iz, I know we have some time left today, but I just wanna get this over with…"

He trailed off as he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed a hand roughly over his face. Those words had completely frozen her to the bench; she couldn't move even if she'd wanted to. All of her worst fears were about to come true and suddenly, her eyes were darting around for the nearest exit. Maybe if she could get out of here and bail before he had the chance, maybe she could stop it…

Jax swallowed tightly and when he forced his gaze back on her, his eyes had glazed over with blank, empty resolve. This was it, wasn't it? She furiously shook her head at him and just as she started pushing back from the bench to run, his cold voice called out to her.

"Iz, we can't do this anymore."

Her mouth dropped open in protest, but her throat was hoarse and dry, unable to form the words she needed.

"It's just…" he sighed and rubbed a hand anxiously against his mouth, unable to make eye contact with her as he spoke. "It's just not a good idea for you to come here anymore."

She stared back at him in shock, her heart thundering wildly in her chest.

"I don't understand, Jax...what are you talking about?"

She understood full well what he was talking about and what he wanted, but she needed to hear the words. She needed to make him say it.

He glanced up at her briefly and then quickly tore his eyes away. It felt so foreign to see him this way, so spineless, so cowardly, and she couldn't reconcile this man in front of her with the man she fell in love with over a year ago. This wasn't the man she knew. This wasn't the man she loved.

"Iz," he started again shakily, still unable to meet her eyes. "I-"

"Goddammit, Jax," she sputtered furiously. "If you're gonna break up with me, at least fucking look at me!"

His cloudy blue eyes shot up at her outburst and the blank expression there quickly eroded into clear pain. At this point, she couldn't have cared less.

"Iz-"

"Don't call me that," she snapped.

He shifted nervously in his seat and chewed on his bottom lip with a brief nod. "Alright...I know I've only been inside for a month, but I've had a lot of time to think about shit and I think we both know that this isn't gonna work. It was never gonna work. We're just too...different and we were never gonna mix."

She leaned away from the table, feeling like the walls were starting to close in on her and now, she just wanted to scream.

"What about the wedding? What about the baby?"

He couldn't hide the pain that flashed across his face, but he recovered quickly. "It's just better this way. You can stay at the house for as long as you need to, but-"

"So that's it, Jax? Just like that? After everything we've been through? After all the promises? That's it?"

"It has to be."

"Right."

Jax shook his head and leaned forward; this time, the steel had slipped back into his eyes and she knew there was no going back now.

"Look, the club is always gonna be my first priority. That's just the way it is. And I just don't think you can hang for the long haul anymore. Shit's already been piled on and it's just gonna keep comin'...look what happened with those ATF assholes and with that fucking rat, Becca. I can't have that shit right now, Iz, and I can't have that shit when I'm Prez. I gotta have an old lady that gets what this life is all about and...it's not your fault, Iz, it's just that...you'll never understand it."

She was practically shaking with fury by the time he was done with his little speech and didn't even know if she wanted to find the strength to put him in his place. She wasn't sure she would even know where to start.

When she didn't respond, he just swallowed again and kept right on going.

"I know this isn't what you wanna hear," he went on quietly. "But, this is the way it's gotta be. I have to be able to trust that my old lady will always act in the best interest of the club and we both know that's somethin' you're always gonna struggle with. Five, ten years from now, I can't be worryin' about whether or not you'll be able to get behind what I gotta do to earn, what I gotta do to keep the club goin', and to be completely honest with you, I'm not sure that you ever really belonged around all this shit with the club in the first place. It's just not who are you, Iz, and since that is exactly who I am, there's no way it's ever gonna work long-term. We're both better off just cuttin' ties now before something else happens."

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about, Jax," she pushed through gritted teeth. "You and I both know everything you just said was all a bunch of bullshit. I know what you're trying to do. You think you're protecting me...or saving me from the club or whatever, but that's not your fucking decision to make."

He stared back at her impassively and for a moment, she thought she saw a flash of genuine regret. Then it was gone. "I think that in a couple days, maybe even a couple of weeks, you'll know I'm right. You just don't see it right now, Iz, because this sucks right now, but you'll figure everything out...you'll move on and forget about all this shit, about the club, about me, and then it'll be like it never even happened. That's just the way it's gotta be."

She didn't even realize she was crying until a stray tear struck the metal table in front of her. This wasn't real. This wasn't really happening. This wasn't her life. She'd been prepared to put everything on hold, to wait an entire year if she had to, because she loved him and because she wanted to marry him. And despite his argument against it, she saw right through him. He wasn't as convincing as he thought he was, but she couldn't deny that the angle he'd played hadn't hurt like a bitch. It was like rubbing salt in an open wound and it played right into all her insecurities about her role within the club and his life. Well, fuck him.

"You don't have to do this, Jax," she shook her head furiously and scrubbed the tears off of her face. "I know what you're doing...and it doesn't have to be like this."

Jax's jaw clenched tightly and he leaned forward a little. "I don't know what else you want me to say here. We're done...I'm done. It's over, Iz."

"You're an asshole," she hissed hoarsely as another fresh round of tears slipped down her cheeks. "I've been sitting here for the last month, visiting you every week, planning the wedding, fucking waiting for you...and this-this is what I get?"

"Yeah, well," he just shrugged, his eyes betraying zero emotion. "I never asked you to wait me and I don't want you to. Just go...live your life, Iz. Move the fuck on, alright?"

Suddenly, she wanted to reach across the table and strangle the asshole. How dare he speak to her that way...how dare he make assumptions about her life and what she wanted and what was best for her? He wanted her to live her life? To move the fuck on? Fine, asshole. That was just fucking fine. The rage coursing through her made her tremble with an unadulterated need to slap the shit out of him. To shake him. To make him snap the hell out of it.

"Fuck you, Jax," she spat venomously as another traitorous tear fell down her cheek. "I fucking love you and you're throwing it all away for nothing."

He remained silent across from her with his hands folded tightly in front of him, but for a split second, pain flashed through his eyes. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. He'd taken the future she'd imagined for them, the life she'd wanted with him, and he'd burned it to a crisp for inane, frivolous reasons. And now, after everything that was said, after seeing the cold, detached expression in his dead eyes, she just wanted to leave. There was no point in staying anyways if he wasn't going to listen and if he wasn't going to be rational.

With an abrupt, anguished breath, she pushed back from the bench and then her feet were somehow carrying her away from the table to get the hell out of there. She didn't turn to look over her shoulder because if she did, she might turn back altogether and try to reason with him one more time. She might make an even bigger fool out of herself than she already had.

If she had turned back, she might have seen Jax lean down into the table with his head in his hands. She might have heard him slam his fist furiously against the metal table. But because she was already out the door, already widening the distance between them, she just pushed forward.

* * *

"So, you can see here that the space gives you a really fantastic view of the Bay...seriously, did I not tell you that this was the best view you'd ever find on a budget?"

Isabelle glanced warily at the overenthusiastic landlady and wondered if maybe she should pass on this apartment just on principle alone. This woman was way too happy for her liking and happy people made her want to vomit. To be fair, the apartment really was beautiful. With its modern loft-style layout, cherry hardwood flooring, and exposed brick walls, it was seriously an artist's wet dream for a work/living space. It really was everything she ever could have wanted and more. Maybe she should re-evaluate her happy people prejudices and just sign the goddamn lease already. At least then, this hunt would be over.

She'd already looked at five apartments today in various increments of closeness to SFAI's campus and at this point, enough was enough already. It didn't really matter where she lived as long as she was in San Francisco and not in Charming.

"Well," the landlady prompted eagerly. "What do you think of it? Isn't it awesome?"

Isabelle cringed inwardly at the woman's ardent use of the word 'awesome', but nodded regardless. "Yeah, it's pretty great."

"We can head back to my office if you'd like. We can look over the lease and the addendums…"

With one final look around the living room, she could already picture where the furniture would go and how she could arrange her studio in the small second bedroom. None of the furniture, of course, would be coming from Jax's house. Even though she'd picked it all out, she hadn't paid for it and frankly, she didn't fucking want it. She didn't want any of it. Then, her mind was made up. Well, it looked like this was home sweet home.

"Sure," Isabelle replied with a weak smile. "Let's go."

About a half hour later, Isabelle left the woman's office with her freshly signed lease tucked away in her oversized purse. Even though she didn't feel as relieved as she'd thought she would feel, she still couldn't bring herself to get back into her mom's Trans Am and head back to Charming just yet. Gemma and Donna would want to know how the apartment shopping went and would probably try to take her out to dinner or something, but she just wanted to be left alone. She just couldn't be there anymore and the longer she stayed in Charming, the more her heart shattered into tinier pieces.

So, when a coffeehouse just down the street caught her eye, she resolved to explore her new neighborhood for a little longer before making the drive back. Anything to kill a little time before having to head back to the pity party. It fucking sucked.

At first, she'd thought she'd dreamt the whole thing. That she'd wake up and this whole mess would've just been a figment of her twisted imagination. Then maybe she wouldn't be moving to San Francisco. Jax wouldn't be in prison. And they would still be together. But after driving home from Stockton in an all-out breakdown-Donna had even had to pull over just to get her to calm down-she came to the bleak realization that maybe this was real.

Still, she'd held onto the belief that Jax would change his mind for an entire week. Just long enough to make it all the way back to Stockton the following Sunday only to be told by the attending guard that her name had been taken off the approved visitors' list per 'inmate request'. How she'd made it back to Charming in one piece was nothing short of a fucking miracle.

She'd spent the next week essentially a walking zombie, barely sleeping, hardly eating, and not even really human. Getting off the couch long enough to go to the bathroom had been difficult enough and Gemma had had to practically lock her in the bathroom just to get her to take a shower. Somewhere between crying herself to sleep, waking up in the morning in tears, and skipping out on a full week of classes and studio hours, she'd gotten angry. Pissed as hell was more like it. And then, after tearing apart their bedroom in a fit of blind, red-hot rage, she'd settled on an epiphany.

It was time for a fresh start. It was time to quit wallowing in self-pity and what ifs and just fucking keep moving already.

But she wouldn't give Jax the satisfaction of acknowledging she was doing it because he'd told her to. She just had to keep moving forward. She couldn't linger on regret any longer. There was nothing she could do about it anyways, considering that she'd been barred from visiting him in Stockton. Now, she could see it for what it was: the final nail in the coffin of their relationship.

There wouldn't be any rationalizing or pleading or crying that he was making a mistake because despite the fact that she still loved him and would always love him, he wouldn't see her. Now, a month later, she didn't really want to see him. And as hard as she tried, she couldn't hate him. Sure, she was fucking furious that he'd done this, that he'd shit all over everything she loved more than she loved herself, and she wanted to slap him and scratch his eyes out for being so goddamn stupid. But she couldn't hate him because she loved him.

She knew, the same way she knew she couldn't go a day without holding a paintbrush in her hand, that she would never be able to shake her feelings for him. She would be ninety years old with an entire lifetime behind her and she'd know that the short year they'd spent together had been, regardless of what had happened, the only time she'd truly been happy.

She could have children with another man and know, without a doubt, that she'd wish Jax was their father instead, that she'd wonder what her life would be like if she hadn't lost their baby, if he hadn't tossed everything overboard off of a ship that hadn't really been sinking in the first place. Those scars would linger until the day she died. As much as it killed her, as much as it made her want to tear her hair out, it was the sad truth of her existence.

With a frustrated huff, she ran her left hand through her auburn locks as she waited in the long line for a coffee. The hair color change had been the first of many changes she knew she needed to make in order to find some semblance of a life after Jax. The day after her breakdown in their bedroom, she'd carefully set her engagement ring on the kitchen counter and hadn't touched it since. Ten minutes later, she'd hopped into a salon chair and made the most drastic change to her hair since...well, ever. She'd just needed to do...something. Anything to have some control in the situation. Anything to take a step towards normalcy and recovery.

That's all she really wanted at this point. Just to feel normal again. Just to feel human again.

The over-caffeinated barista took her order-God, why did everyone have to be so damned happy?-and Isabelle stepped back from the counter to wait for her order. She warily eyed the couple seated next to the window to her right and secretly hoped that one of them choked on their lattes. Fucking assholes.

But when she turned on her heel with her caramel vanilla latte in hand, her entire body froze in mid-step. Agent Jordan stood just a little ahead of her, waiting in line, and grinning at her with a smile that made her skin crawl. Even though they were in in a public place and even though there was no overt, immediate danger, she had the sudden urge to let her coffee tumble to the floor and scream bloody murder.

Then, he was stepping out of line and approaching her. Panicked, she backpedalled until she ran right into the person behind her by the counter and now, she didn't have anywhere else to go. There was nowhere else to run and suddenly, she was completely alone in a crowded coffeehouse. And for a fleeting, tortured moment, she wanted Jax.

"Hey there, Isabelle," Jordan greeted her cheerily and she felt her heart drop into her stomach at the sound of his voice. "What are you doing here?"

_The better question_, she thought, _is what the fuck are you doing here_? But because anytime she was in his presence she felt physically ill, she knew she was better off playing it cool and not alerting him to her distress.

"I, uh, had a class and wanted some coffee," she offered lamely.

"Sure," Jordan grinned back at her, rocking back on his heels as he dug his hands into his front pockets. Clad in a dress shirt, tie, and pants, he was clearly dressed for work, so what was he doing here in San Francisco? At the same coffee house as her of all places? This was hardly a coincidence and the longer they stood there, the more she wanted to run screaming out of the door.

"I thought that was you," he went on a little too amiably. "I almost didn't recognize you with your hair...it looks...really nice."

Her throat felt tight and dry at his words and her eyes darted around to find some way to get out of here without making too much of a scene.

"Uh...thanks," she stammered quickly and took a drink of still too-hot latte for lack of anything better to do.

"Well, um, I have to get my coffee, but do you want to sit down at a table? We could catch up or…" He trailed off and must have recognized the horrified expression in her eyes for what it was. "I mean...uh, look, I'm just really sorry about everything that happened. I know how much all that hurt you and I never wanted that to happen...even though it had too. And I'm just so, so sorry about the baby. I know there isn't anything that I can ever say, but..."

All the blood drained out of her face and for a moment, she thought she hadn't heard him correctly. Had he really just admitted out loud that he knew about the baby? If that was true, he had to everything else too...so, why the hell was he here? Why was he obviously following her? What the hell did he want from her?

"Wait, what?" she asked, barely able to believe her ears.

"I'm sorry, Isabelle," Jordan shook his head sadly. "I didn't mean to pry-I just...I don't know, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I doubt Teller realizes how much of an idiot he is."

All ability to speak failed her. She couldn't form any words, even if she wanted to.

"I was just hoping," Jordan went on nervously and ran a hand through his short, gelled hair. "I guess I was just hoping that maybe we could go out to dinner sometime? You know...outside of all this other stuff. I think you could really use a friend right now and I-"

"Look," she cut in abruptly, her hands shaking as they closed around her coffee cup. "I don't know what you're doing here, but I would really appreciate it if you stayed away from me. I don't know how you know about the baby or the fact that Jax and I broke up, but there's no good reason why you should know something so fucking personal like that. Please...just stay away from me, okay?"

She didn't wait for a response and instead, stepped around him and made a beeline for the exit. Too afraid to look over her shoulder to see if he was following her, she scrambled shakily for her phone in her purse and somehow kept it together long enough to dial Charming PD and ask for Chief Unser.

While she didn't know what the fuck was going on here, she did know that what had just happened was not normal and it was not, by any standards, the actions of a sane, rational ATF agent. And as she quickly explained to Unser what had just happened, and as the words left her lips, the reality of her current situation hit her like a ton of bricks. Instead of calling Jax, the man she loved, the man who'd once promised to never let anything happen to her, she'd resorted to calling the police, a move she never would've made if she was still with Jax and still surrounded by the club. And for the first time in a very long time, she felt totally and completely alone.

* * *

**A/N-Well, this probably a good time to point out that this is a trilogy and that their story is far from over. Given where their story is headed, this was unfortunately something that needed to happen. Jax has long been guilty of not really considering what Isabelle wants for herself, just what he wants for her, and this wasn't really any exception. Of course, it's gonna come back and bite him in the ass, but still. **

**I was initially dreading writing this chapter, but once I got going, I surprisingly had a lot of fun tearing them apart (maybe that had something to do with the fact that I know they'll eventually find their way back to each other, you know?). Anyways, I'm happy with the way it turned out and despite the angst, I hope you guys are too. **

**Thanks to everyone who's been reading, reviewing, alerting, and favoriting. I can't wait to hear all your theories/predictions about what's next for Jax and Isabelle and what the heck is up with that crazy Agent Jordan...**


	13. Kotov Syndrome

He wasn't entirely sure how long he'd been sitting in his car. After watching Isabelle walk away from him at the coffeehouse, Agent Jordan had had the urge to run after her, to try to explain that he had good intentions, that he wanted to get to know her, that he wanted to be her friend if she'd let him, that eventually, he wanted to be more than just her friend. God, he would've given anything to reach out and touch her...to see if her hair was as soft as it looked, to feel her skin against his.

He had to admit the hair color change was a bit of an adjustment. Because he'd fallen for her as a blonde and had never really been fond of redheads, he'd couldn't deny he'd felt a twinge of disappointment. But, she was still Isabelle and at the end of the day, that was all that really mattered.

Their encounter in line at the coffeehouse hadn't gone exactly the way he'd hoped, but if anything, it was contact. A connection. That was really all he was looking for right now. The more contact he could make, the more he could connect with her, and that would eventually take them down the road he was hoping for. So, he could live with her initial reluctance. He could understand why she wouldn't want to jump into a new relationship right away and he could imagine the bullshit Teller had put her through when he'd broken up with her.

While he didn't have all the details, he knew her well enough by now to know that she never would've ended things with Teller and this break-up was all his idea. And even though he couldn't believe anyone, even Teller, would ever be stupid enough to push away someone as beautiful, kind, generous, talented, and giving as Isabelle, that didn't mean he wasn't going to jump on this opportunity. One man's idiotic loss was going to be his gain.

Jordan's attention shifted onto his phone, which was currently buzzing on the center console of his car. With a sigh, he snatched it up and swiped across the screen to answer.

"Explain to me why Unser just gave me a fucking earful about you and Isabelle Martin," Stahl barked into the ear piece before he even had a chance to speak.

He squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand over his face. Great. Just fucking great.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Stahl."

"Where are you right now? Are you in fucking San Francisco? If you are, so help me God, I'll-"

Shit. He was going to have to come up with something quick here. Seeing as how Stahl was by far one of the most intelligent, intuitive, and lethally pragmatic people he'd ever met in his life, the truth was not something she would take lightly.

"I'm visiting my brother. Is that alright with you?" He shot back hotly, hoping that his tone would help deter her from the truth.

When Stahl had first sniffed out his frequent trips to San Francisco, and, had immediately jumped to conclusions, he'd lied and told her his brother lived in San Francisco. It was a risky move by all accounts. His partner and her intrusive tendencies to never just let anything die could easily do a little investigation and would immediately learn that he did not, in fact, have family in San Francisco. He didn't really have any family at all, but that was beside the point. So far, at least, Stahl had bought the bullshit story and hadn't pressed him for any details. Knowing her, he figured she didn't care enough about him to look any deeper into the lies he'd fed her and that was perfectly fine with him.

"So, you're telling me your brother lives in the exact same neighborhood where Isabelle Martin literally just signed an apartment lease? Really?"

He sighed again, knowing the easiest way to get out of this was just to play it off as purely coincidental. Stahl clearly already knew about his encounter with Isabelle, so he wouldn't be able to get away saying her information was wrong...that would be a little too difficult to explain away.

"Look, I know how this looks-"

"You're exactly right, Jordan. Because Unser told me that Isabelle Martin just called him and said she thought you were stalking her. That she told you to stay away from her after you asked her out to dinner and now Unser is telling me that if anything like that happens again, he's going to file a restraining order against you on her behalf. Explain that shit to me, Jordan, because I'm trying really hard to figure out why you feel the need to continue this obsession with her."

"Stahl, if you'd just let me explain, you would see how crazy all that is."

After a beat of silence, he realized she was waiting for him to provide her with that explanation.

"Look," he pushed on. "My brother lives a few blocks away that coffeehouse; I stopped there on my way out of town and she was there. There's no other explanation because that's what happened. Yes, I talked to her because I didn't want to be a rude asshole, but that was it. I don't know why she would've told Unser anything different, but I never said shit to her about anything other than hey, how are you, nice to see you. That was it, Stahl."

Stahl blew out a deep breath through the phone. "You sure?"

"Goddammit, yes, I'm absolutely sure."

"Well, all I know is that you'd better not have any other run-ins with her, accidental or not. We're gonna be reassigned pretty soon and you need to be fucking professional and get your shit together."

His heart lurched a little at her words. Reassigned? That could be anywhere...besides, he hadn't realized their job in Charming as over. He'd half-expected their supervisor to make them stick around for awhile and see what else they could dig up. But, he figured, since they'd been in Charming now for almost an entire year and had only been able to send four Samcro members in Stockton on minimal charges, they hadn't exactly brought down the whole organization per their original assignment. Maybe their supervisor figured it was time to move on. His initial conjecture about the criminal lifestyle was always going to be correct: it was a cycle. And right now, the cycle was on a lag with four prominent members inside, but as soon as they got out, shit would kick up all over again.

After Stahl promptly hung up on him, Jordan sat stiffly in the driver's seat for a few moments before shifting into drive to head back into Charming. It seemed like fate wasn't exactly cooperating with him at the moment.

The answer to his current problems was simple: he would just have to be patient. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Isabelle, especially to the point where she would do something as nonsensical as file a restraining order, and scaring her would only put him on the fast track to losing her. So, he'd just have to bide his time. Watch over her from a safe distance, which, unfortunately, also meant he'd have to be extremely careful and might not be able to see her everyday. It was going to be difficult to keep himself away from her like that, but in the end, he knew he stood to gain everything he wanted if he could manage it.

All he had to do now was sit back and wait. At some point, an opportunity would present itself, just like today at the coffeehouse, and then he and Isabelle would finally be able to start their lives together.

* * *

Jax shifted anxiously on the cold metal bench and glanced at the clock directly above the visitors' entrance. At any moment now, his mother would be walking through those doors and he honestly didn't know how he felt about it. This was probably the first time in...he had no idea how long...that he wasn't so sure he really wanted to see her. Of course, it didn't exactly help that she'd flatly refused to see him for the last three months and had only recently agreed to take his phone calls.

She was punishing him. And she was essentially telling him that it didn't matter if he still had eight months left of his sentence or if he too was suffering because she thought he was the dumbest, most insane asshole bastard motherfucker she'd ever met. And of course, she was right. He deserved to suffer. He deserved to spend every second in anguish. As far as he was concerned, there was no punishment that could possibly be worse than the one he'd given himself.

He'd pushed away the best thing that had ever happened to him. It was as simple as that. Even though it was the right thing to do, at the end of the day, he wished beyond all sense of reason and logic that there was some other way. Severing their ties was the most excruciating thing he'd ever done and here he'd thought that driving her to school in LA was right at the top of that list. Nothing had ever prepared him for this. Nothing had ever prepared him for a life without his light on the path. Now, everything was pitch black and it felt like his entire existence was submerged under two miles of dark, murky ocean.

And if that wasn't pussy melodramatics, then he didn't know what was.

He'd barely slept, barely eaten, and the only real reason he was surviving at all was because Ope, Chibs, and Juice had his back. If not for their intervention, his ass would've been shanked by now. This dark depression had set off little tremors of explosions that had resulted in him pissing off the wrong Aryan brother, narrowly missing a shanking in the ribs-he had the scars to prove it-and three days in solitary. After that, Opie had made it his mission to make sure he made it out of here alive and in one piece, narrow misses aside. It was safe to say that Jax wasn't exactly doing his part in making sure that happened.

He honestly just didn't really give a shit anymore.

At this point, he couldn't care less if he ever got of prison. That was how low he'd sunken.

So when Gemma's icy, black-rimmed eyes focused sharply on him as she perched on the bench across from him, he was having a hard time feeling anything less than apathetic to her stare-down. She'd made no moves to hug or even touch him, but his mother's touch wasn't what he needed right now anyways.

"Hey, Jax," his mother bit out finally through clenched teeth.

"Hey, Mom," he sighed and stared down at the table in front of him.

The next few moments passed by with slow, steady beats and he wasn't looking forward to hearing the inevitable emotional beat-down she was about to lay on him. It wasn't that he didn't deserve it. He just didn't wanna hear it.

"You look like shit," Gemma stated quietly, her hawk-like eyes scanning over him.

He figured the dark circles around his eyes, hollowed out cheeks, and sallow skin probably amounted to that accurate description. That was what he'd done to himself and he deserved it.

"Yeah, well, I feel like shit, so I guess that sounds about right," he mumbled back and slid down a little lower on the table.

Gemma nodded tightly. "Good."

Jax fought the urge to roll his eyes at that last comment. It wasn't like he expected her to be sympathetic. He didn't really expect anything from her other than exactly what she was doing now. But, seriously, the dramatics were coming on a little strong even for her and that was really saying something.

Still, he had to ask. He had to know. If even just to torture himself a little more. Since his mother was here, and she would most certainly know the answer, he couldn't sit here this whole time and never ask the question.

"How is she?"

The words hung in the air like a plague, sinking deep within his soul and poisoning him. But he had to know. He had to know that she was surviving, that she was moving on, that she wasn't as broken by this as he was.

Gemma's eyes narrowed dangerously and she leaned forward like a cat about to pounce on her prey. "You cut ties with her, Jax. And now you wanna know how she's doin'? You can't have it both ways, baby."

There wasn't much he could say to respond to that. She was right. Of course she was right. But that didn't make him need to know any less. He loved her. He fucking loved her...so much that he'd put himself in this position with little regard to his own well-being. It just wasn't about him anymore...it wasn't about what he wanted or needed. He'd forfeited that right when he'd found himself with handcuffs around his wrists.

"Mom," he pleaded, surprising them both at his desperate tone. "Can you just...give me something? Anything?"

Gemma regarded him silently for a few moments, as if she was weighing whether or not this was a good idea and then she exhaled exasperatedly. She never did have the capacity to tell him no and he figured today was really no exception.

"Well," she pushed out slowly. "You shattered her heart into a million pieces and then stomped all over it. How do you think she's doing?"

Despite his previous inability to emote, he couldn't stop the wince that flinched across his features. The reality of the situation wasn't something he wanted to confront just yet and it was difficult to reconcile the pain and anguish of this new knowledge.

"Is she…" he murmured hoarsely. "Is she still at the house? Is she…"

He couldn't bring himself to finish that statement. He wasn't entirely sure how to finish that statement or if he really wanted the answer.

"No, she's not," Gemma answered simply and showed zero signs of offering any other information.

Of course, his mind immediately leapt to all the alternatives, of where she could be living or what she was doing. But, as much as he hated to admit it, his mother was right. He couldn't have it both ways. He couldn't separate himself from her and still want to know the details of her life. It just didn't work that way and even though it wasn't fair to either one of them, he just couldn't help himself. He'd been going a little crazy wondering if she was okay, if he'd been too cruel and impassive, if he'd done more damage than he'd intended...and he just had to know. And although he'd pushed her away, he couldn't push away what he felt for her. That would always be there, trailing after him like a ghost until the day he died.

"Is she still in Charming?"

Part of him wouldn't be surprised at all if she'd just picked up and moved to San Francisco. It made complete sense and if he knew her as well as he thought he did, he figured she would see the move as a fresh start. Not that he could really blame her. He'd wanted her to move on with her life, to find something beyond Charming and beyond him where she could be happy and safe at the same time, and this was just all part of that master plan. It was the bargain he'd struck when he'd cut out his own heart and severed her from his life.

Gemma eyed him carefully and leaned forward. "I'm not gonna tell you shit, Jackson. I know what you want and right about now, I'm not so sure you deserve it."

"Wow," he exhaled with a huff. "Thanks, Ma. Love you too."

"I never said I didn't love you," Gemma shook her head ruefully. "But that doesn't mean I don't think you're a complete asshole."

"I know, Mom," he shot back hotly. "There's nothing you can say to me that I don't already know."

"I'm just tryin' to figure out why the hell you would say that shit to her. You can't really think that's true, Jax…"

He sighed and ran a hand over his buzzed head. At this point, he didn't really have anything to lose by admitting the truth, but, he also knew how close Isabelle and his mother had become over this past year and the odds that Gemma would keep this information to herself were very slim.

"Mom-"

"Don't bullshit me, Jackson," Gemma cut in sharpy. "I hope to God there's no way you could possibly be that stupid and really believe all that shit. I didn't raise you to be a chickenshit pussy, you know."

Jax blew out a deep, exasperated sigh and anxiously rubbed his hands into his thighs. This wasn't getting them anywhere. Gemma clearly wasn't going to divulge anything he needed to know and that was just fine. If she wanted to torture him, she was going a great fucking job. Still, she didn't have shit on what he was doing to himself anyways. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

"Mom-"

"No, Jax," Gemma snapped back at him before he could get another word in. "You know what? I'm not sure I really want to hear anything you have to say. We both know Isabelle was the best damn thing that ever happened to you and using one thing that happened, one thing that she should've done differently, and using that to be a complete and total asshole, you're a goddamn idiot, Jackson. That girl has done nothing but be there for you and love you unconditionally-it takes a certain kind of woman to be willing to deal with this lifestyle, with your man bein' in prison, and Jackson, Isabelle is that kind of woman."

At this point, Jax's head fell into his hands. He just couldn't take this shit anymore. She'd fucking beaten it out of him.

"I know, I know," he moaned hoarsely, the frustration seeping into his voice. "Jesus Christ, alright, Ma? I fuckin' know!"

Gemma blinked back in surprise at his outburst and leaned back just enough to get a clearer look at him. "Jax…"

"I fuckin' know already, Mom," he shot back and shook his furiously, barely able to keep his rage at bay. This had nothing to do with his mother because everything she'd said was true. He wasn't furious with her. The only person he wanted to physically injure here was himself.

"So then why did you…" his mother trailed off before recognition flickered in her black-rimmed eyes. "Oh baby...you didn't…"

"Yeah," he murmured hoarsely. "I did."

"I get that you were trying to protect her, that you didn't want to see her waitin' around for you, but, baby, this was not the way...you've just made everything worse, Jax."

"What are you talkin' about, Ma? She's fine now. She can go off and live her life now and not have to worry about any of this shit anymore."

Gemma blew out a deep breath and looked down at her hands. "Shit...I shouldn't be telling you this. I promised myself I wouldn't...but, Jesus, maybe you need to know…"

Panic cut through his chest and everything inside him tensed up at her words. What the hell had happened? He almost didn't want to know...because what the fuck was he supposed to do stuck in here? If somebody needed a beat-down, he couldn't be the one to hand it out and that knowledge alone made him want to slam his fist into the metal table.

After Gemma paused a little too long, he leaned forward anxiously, ready to reach out and strangle her if she didn't tell him soon.

"What, Mom?" he prompted uneasily. "Jesus Christ-what the hell happened?"

"That ATF agent has been following her," Gemma told him quietly.

At first, he didn't think he'd heard her correctly. That couldn't be right. What the fuck…

When he failed to respond, Gemma must have taken that as a sign to press onward with the details.

"Well, at least I think he's been following her this whole time...it seems like he just won't leave her alone. He cornered her at a coffehouse in San Francisco by her school, said some bullshit about wanting to be her friend and wanting to take her out to dinner."

Jax felt his blood simmering through his veins as the images of how this might've looked flashed through his mind. That crazy fuck Jordan scaring the shit out of Isabelle, not to mention the fact that he was clearly insane and carrying around some wild delusions...just the thought of it made Jax's entire body coil with rage.

"She was smart," Gemma went on quickly, sensing his mounting fury. "She called Unser immediately and Unser threatened him with a restraining order."

"Okay, but what about the club? Can't Clay do-"

"She won't let him, Jax," Gemma shook her head ruefully. "He tried to keep a prospect on her, but she lost the bastard every time. Says since she technically doesn't have a connection to the club anymore, she doesn't want us wasting our time lookin' out for her."

Jax flinched reflexively at this new knowledge and knew, almost immediately, that this was entirely his fault. If something happened with this ATF asshole, and Isabelle was unprotected, it would be on him. While he couldn't exactly blame her for wanting to completely sever ties with Samcro, he wished to God she wasn't so damned stubborn and would just let a damned prospect watch her back. Why was that so goddamned difficult? Well, he knew why it was so difficult for her and again, that was his fault.

"Well, didn't you-"

"I've tried, Jax," she cut in abruptly with a tight nod. "Many, many times. Donna hasn't been able to get through to her either. She just doesn't want anything to do with the club, outside of me and Donna, and you know, baby, I can't say I really blame her. I just wish she'd let us do something to make sure that ATF fucker stays on his leash."

"Fuck," Jax exhaled exasperatedly and ran a hand over his head. "Has he tried anything since?"

"Not that I know of, but I guess I can't exactly trust that Isabelle would tell me if it did. At least she seems willing to talk to Unser...I know a restraining order isn't exactly the way the club would handle the situation, but it still gets the message across. Still, you've got an ATF agent-who helped arrest you, no less-that seems to have enough crazy balls to approach her out of Charming and out of his jurisdiction...he's not gonna leave this alone."

"Jesus Christ," he shook his head in disbelief.

"So maybe you get it now, Jax? You see how incredibly reckless and fucking' stupid this was? I hope to God you haven't set her up to get hurt. If anything happened to her, Jackson, I'd never forgive you. And if anything ever did happen, I'm not sure that the club would be able to get to her in time now, thanks to you."

There wasn't anything he could say at that. She was absolutely right and when she'd finally had enough, murmured a quick goodbye, and left the table, Jax sat there alone, feeling like someone had just walked up behind him and shanked him right in the back. Even as a guard motioned for him to get moving, he sat there stiffly, frozen to the metal bench underneath him.

What the fuck had he done?

* * *

"Please."

"No."

"Pretty, pretty please with lots of sugar-free chocolate syrup on top?"

"Absolutely not. And stop batting those eyelashes at me. I don't care if you curl and separate each lash every morning, it's not gonna work."

"Isabelle, come on, it's just one date. It's no big deal and he's super, super cute. I mean, seriously. I wouldn't do that to you; besides, you're too pretty to be this sad all the time."

Isabelle chuckled, in spite of her current situation, and took a tiny sip of her latte to see if had cooled enough. "I appreciate your concern, Benn, but I just don't think-"

"Oh my God, if you say you're not ready one more time, I'm gonna take this straw out of my smoothie and stab myself in the eye," Bennett mimed a stabbing motion as he spoke and effectively made her laugh right into her latte.

She'd just been minding her own business as she scurried down the stairs in her apartment building, a little haggard from chronic lack of sleep, and totally running late. Just as she rounded the corner of the last flight of stairs, a voice-way too peppy for that early in the morning-called out to her.

"Oh my God," he'd sputtered excitedly. "Are those...oh my God...please tell me those are vintage boots? Are those vintage boots? They're fantastic…"

He curled his body around so he could get a better look at the worn, camel suede buckled boots she'd found at the back of her mom's closet.

"Damn, girl," he whistled. "I wish I could steal those right off those pretty little feet. Smokin'..."

Isabelle had blinked back in shock. It was way too early in the morning for this. It certainly didn't help matters that guy salivating over her shoes was more finely groomed than she was...if anything, it just made her feel extremely self-conscious with his sharp brown eyes scrutinizing what seemed like every inch of her body.

"Um...okay."

"Oh my God, I'm so rude. I'm Bennett, but everyone just calls me Benn," he held up two fingers as he spoke. "Benn with two n's."

And in spite of the fact that she still wasn't entirely sure what was going on here, she met his wide smile head-on and couldn't help but grin right back.

"Well, Benn with two n's, I'm Isabelle."

His face lit up at her words. "I _love_ your name!"

"I love your name...well, I guess really the way you spell it," she laughed.

"Isabelle," he'd beamed back. "I think I just fell in love with you. Wait...are you a natural ginger or box ginger? This is a very important question and you need to answer it now."

With that, they'd been practically inseparable ever since, mostly due to the fact that they lived three floors away from each other and Bennett refused to ever take no for an answer. In addition to having apartments in common, they'd also quickly figured out that they both attended SFAI. Bennett had quickly assessed that his degree in Art Management and Isabelle's "fucking brilliance" would amount to them owning a studio together, with him running the business end and Isabelle taking care of the creative end. It wasn't a bad thought, and, given what she knew about him after only a few months, something he would hold her to if they actually made it to that point in their careers.

Bennett had immediately sensed the deep sadness and pain in her, which really wasn't saying much considering she didn't think she was doing the greatest job hiding it. Still, he never pushed her for the details and he never made her feel like a jerk for not being immediately forthcoming with said details. Eventually, though, she'd figured he deserved an explanation for her withdrawn, slightly anti-social behavior. While she'd conveniently left out the part about Jax being part of an MC, Bennett had been nothing but understanding and sympathetic to her story. And when she'd broken down, barely able to choke out the words 'baby', 'lost it', and 'prison', Bennett promptly enveloped her in his arms and let her cry.

What she'd found in Bennett was a kindred spirit, someone who understood her passion and appreciation for art, and someone who understood what it was like to feel completely and utterly alone, in a big city no less. Bennett had been an open book about his past, from the first boyfriend to the last, about his parents less-than-thrilled deposition about his career choice, and their subsequent refusal to pay his tuition. Having been completely cut off from his parents, he'd decided to forge ahead with his dream of running his own studio and throwing "fabulous gallery showings with kickass after-parties", as he'd put it.

"Listen, Isabelle," Bennett was reminding her now. "I know you're all whatever about wanting to date again, but-"

"I'm just not ready, Benn," she cut in sharply, wanting to just nip this in the bud already.

"Isabelle. Sweetie," he enunciated each syllable dramatically. "I understand your plight. Trust me, I really do. But the only way you're ever going to really get over Senor Douchebag, sorry, Mr. Assholeface, is if you really move on with your life. I hate to break it to ya, beautiful, but that involves dating other, less douchey guys."

Isabelle sighed shakily and squeezed her eyes shut briefly. She knew this was exactly the kind of thing she needed to hear, but it was really the last thing she actually wanted to hear. This was logical, realistic advice, but her heart just wasn't there yet. She wasn't entirely sold on the idea that it ever really would be. Life after Jax was empty, save for Bennett and her minimal connections with Gemma and Donna, and it felt like it was always going to feel this way. She was so fucking sick of feeling this way...nearly four months after he'd ended it, she could still hear Jax's voice in her head, telling her to just fucking move on already. But she was stuck.

Maybe it was finally time to do something about that.

"Isabelle," Bennett continued softly. "You'll never know if you're actually ready until you give it a try. You could go out with my super-cute new co-worker and who knows? It could be fun and he might be exactly what you're looking for right now. Maybe you'll want to see him again, maybe you won't, but at the very least, you'll get a free dinner out of it, right? And if you go and it still doesn't feel right, then I'll back off, okay?"

Because she'd already been headed that way herself, it was difficult to muster up an argument against his logic.

"I just wanna see you try, Isabelle," Bennett's big brown eyes stared back softly back at her with genuine concern for her well-being.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," she huffed. "Stop batting your eyelashes at me."

"Works everytime," he laughed. "So you'll let me set you up?"

"Fine," Isabelle grumbled as she slid down a little further in her chair.

She'd been fine with it right up until she was sitting at the bar, waiting for her date to show up. She'd been calm and collected as Bennett touched up her make-up and had compliantly worn exactly what he'd instructed her to wear...she was trying to put up a brave front and had held on all the way over to the bar. At first, Bennett had scoffed at her flat refusal to be picked up by Tyler, Bennett's co-worker at the coffehouse, but he'd quickly decided to roll with her terms as long as she was still willing to play along.

But the second she'd sat down on the stool and ordered a drink, she could feel her chest tightening like a vice, sucking what little air was left right out of her lungs. It was like all the agitation, unrest, and torrential heartbreak seeping through every crack in her heart was threatening to implode. The weight of that implosion would break her completely and her eyes darted around anxiously for a route to the fastest exit.

Before she had a chance to make a clean getaway, a guy dressed in jeans and a polo shirt approached her.

"Is there any chance you're Isabelle?" he asked, his green eyes filling with genuine hope and anticipation.

"Uh, yeah," she pressed a tight smile across her lips when his face lit up.

"Wow, okay, um...I'm Tyler, Benn's friend at Luna's."

His hand immediately shot out to shake her hand and she gingerly slid her hand into his. He seemed nice enough and she had to hand it to Bennett. Tyler was, for all intents and purposes, the exact opposite of the way she'd described Jax. Clean-cut, preppy...he almost reminded her of Brandon, her old boyfriend from high school and ill-conceived experiment last year. That thought alone sent a rush of nausea right through her stomach.

Their conversation started off awkwardly after he ordered himself a beer and hopped up on the stool next to her at the bar. He'd prompted her with a few generic questions about school and all she could think was...he wasn't Jax. He'd continued on as he rambled about growing up in San Francisco and all she could think was that he wasn't Jax. When he'd asked her if she wanted another drink, she'd almost said, "you're not Jax." As he'd inquired earnestly about her upcoming gallery showing-which was a line Bennett had clearly fed him-all she could think about was how Jax wasn't going to be there...and Tyler just wasn't Jax.

Well-intentioned and well-meaning, but not Jax.

It was around that time that the nausea and utter horror at her situation sent her high-tailing it to the ladies' room. Within seconds, she was dry-heaving into the toilet. When her stomach finally stopped rolling long enough to allow her to slide down to the ground, she leaned heavily against the divider, not at all caring about the stickiness underneath her. This was never going to end...why the hell did she ever think it could?

She'd never be able to shake him. She'd never be able to rid him of her thoughts. He would always be haunting her like an evil demon that just wouldn't let her go. Life after Jax didn't even seem like a possibility anymore. This wasn't actual living...this was just existing. All she could do now was just resign herself to the fact that this was never really going to get better. This was her life now. This was just the way it was.

With a sigh, she dug her phone of her purse and hit Bennett's speed-dial on her home screen.

"Oh my God," he answered immediately. "Tell me everything...wait? Why are you calling? What's wrong? Do you need me to come get you? What's going on?"

"Jesus, Benn, slow down and let me talk alright?"

"Okay, sorry. Go."

"I'm in the bathroom."

"Did you throw up?"

"Sort of."

He sighed through the phone. "Oh, sweetie. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too."

"Do you want me to come get you?"

"No...I only had one drink. I'm fine. So...what do I do now?"

"Just go out there and tell him something came up and you have to go. It's kinda bitchy, I know, but it gets you outta there."

Isabelle sighed deeply and leaned her head against the divider. "Okay."

"Call me when get to the building, okay? I'll meet you by the door."

"Sounds good, Benn."

"Love you, sweetie."

"Love you, too."

She'd barely swiped across her phone to end the call when Gemma's name flashed across her phone. With a groan and an exasperated exhale, she swiped across the screen one more time to take the call.

"Hey, Gemma."

"Hi, honey."

Gemma's hesitant, albeit hopeful tone immediately sent her on edge and she knew something was up. While Gemma still made a point to call her every once and awhile to check on her, she'd also been respectful of her space, which was harder on Isabelle than she'd expected. Since she'd started working for T-M in what seemed like years ago, Gemma had quickly become the only mother-figure in her life and even though she wasn't completely cut out of it now, it was different than before. And that was Jax's fault.

"What's up, Gemma?"

"We got some news from Rosen. I wanted to tell you as soon as we found out because...well, I thought you deserved to know so you could decide what you wanted to do with it."

"Okay…"

"Rosen just told us that the boys are gonna be up for parole in a few weeks. Something about over-crowding and for the most part, there haven't been any incidents...minus Jax's...nevermind. If everything goes well, it looks like they could be out next month."

Jesus Christ. That meant they would've only served half of their sentence. If Jax had known that...no, she couldn't go there. He'd made his choice and the fact that he could get paroled next month really shouldn't matter. Nothing had changed.

"Okay, well, thanks for telling me. I appreciate it, Gemma."

For a moment, she was met with nothing but silence on the other end and Isabelle had to check her screen to make sure her phone hadn't dropped the call.

"Gemma?"

"I'm still here, hun. Sorry, I guess I was just hoping that…nevermind. Anyways, I just wanted you to know."

"Thanks, Gemma. I was thinking I might come home this weekend if-"

"I'll be around, sweetie," Gemma cut in excitedly. "Of course I'll be around. Did you wanna come over to the house? I could make dinner and call Donna and Ellie...and bring Bennett. I'd love to finally meet him."

Isabelle smiled to herself and had to bite her lip. Gemma and Bennett in the same room together would be...interesting, to say the least, especially considering that Bennett referred to Gemma as "the dragonlady". Of course, he was just going off of a picture Isabelle had shown him, but he'd seen everything he'd needed to see.

"I'll, uh, I'll see what he's doing this weekend and let you know."

"Sounds good, sweetie. Just call me when you know when you'll be in town."

"Sure, Gemma."

When they hung up, Isabelle tossed her phone back into her purse, vaguely aware that her 'date' was still at the bar probably wondering if she'd ditched him. She might as well have. This was nothing sort of a complete disaster. Here she was, supposedly trying to move on with her life, sitting on the sticky floor of the bathroom while her perfectly acceptable date waited for her at the bar.

She was completely pathetic. Pining away for a man that didn't want her. Still loving him and still hurting because of him. Still wishing something, anything could've been different for them. At least now, she'd found some semblance of acceptance. It was really over. And it didn't matter that he could be getting out. It didn't matter because it was over and as much as her heart shattered a little bit more every day, she also couldn't just set aside what he'd said to her, what he'd done to her...to them.

Her first thought was that she wanted to go to him, to hear more details about what this meant, what the next step was, but then she remembered that he'd taken her off the visitors' list. She couldn't go see him even if she wanted to...and the more time that slipped away, the more she wasn't so sure she wanted to see him. Why torture herself with things she couldn't change?

The only thing she could do now was just keeping moving forward, at least as much as possible. So, this date hadn't exactly panned out. She'd dry-heaved in the toilet at barely twenty minutes of small talk with a man who wasn't Jax and at some point, she was going to have to figure out to do this. She was going to have to figure out how to date other guys, be with other guys, and eventually, love another guy.

With a sigh, she squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her head against the metal divider. Who was she kidding anyway? There would never be anyone else. There would never be another man who'd made her feel like she could do anything and be anything. Bennett didn't count where that was concerned. She would always love Jax.

It was just that simple and that devastating.

She would always love him.

* * *

Hector Salazar ground his hands tighter around the steering wheel as he watched Teller's old lady walk across campus with another guy. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on here and why Teller's old lady was living in San Francisco and not in Charming, but that wasn't the least of his worries right now.

After months of biding his time and waiting for the right moment, it looked like that moment had finally presented itself. Every time he'd attempted to make a move, that fucking ATF agent was practically breathing down Teller's old lady's neck. It wasn't like he could do anything with the ATF right there and then, Teller was sent to prison. There was no point if he couldn't make the bastard hurt, if he couldn't sink the knife in a little bit deeper where it would really sting.

So, for the first time in his life, he'd been willing to be patient. Teller's sentence was a hell of a long time to wait, but it was a small price to pay for finally getting that smug, self-righteous asshole back. That motherfucker thought he could kick in the door of his house, point a gun at his woman, and beat the shit out of him and he really thought nothing would happen? That it was really over?

It was never fucking over. Not by a long shot.

Teller was going to pay for the humiliation he'd suffered. He was to pay for the way he'd scared the shit out of Luisa. And Samcro was going to pay him the money he was owed. He'd earned each and every one of those 100Gs and he was going to fucking get them back. It didn't matter how long it took or what he had to do, he was going to get what he'd earned and what Teller had denied him.

This was a long time coming and he was going to savor every second of it. And now, after hearing rumblings that Teller and the rest of his Samcro brothers might be getting out early, it seemed like that opportunity had finally arrived.

What he needed to do now was figure out his old lady's schedule. He needed her entire routine-when her classes were, where she worked...if she worked, he needed to know everything. Once he had all that information, and figured how in the hell he was going to lose that ATF agent that kept hanging around, then he could finally make his move.

And he knew exactly how he was going to do it. Right when Teller was about to be a free man, when it would hurt the most, then he would do it. Then Teller would really know what it felt like to be completely helpless and go absolutely crazy. And then, he would finally get exactly what he deserved.

* * *

**A/N-Thanks for all the amazing responses to the last chapter! It's funny that almost everybody said they hope Isabelle doesn't take Jax back right away and that he really has to work for it because that's exactly the way I feel too. That's basically what I was talking about in an A/N for an earlier chapter about Isabelle not being a doormat. He broke up with her and now he has to deal with the consequences-one of them being that she may not necessarily want him back (at least not right away).**

**I'm really looking forward to writing the next chapters as this story starts to move towards the finish line (I have about 7 planned chapters left) and then that'll set up the second sequel. Hopefully, the time jump didn't confuse anyone! So, that being said, I'm really excited to hear your thoughts/reactions/predications about Jordan and Salazar. Just when we thought good ol' Hector was gone for good, right? Haha.**

**Anyways, I'm gonna go get started on the next update. It's a big one.**


	14. Blowback

Isabelle sped right past the 'Welcome to Charming' sign, eager to get out of there after a long visit with Gemma and Donna. It wasn't so much that seeing Gemma and Donna was unpleasant...it was just being back in that town. Anytime she came back, she felt a little like a caged animal, just pacing back and forth along the bars until she could be set free. That was the only real way to describe it. And she hated that she felt this way. It just wasn't fair.

And it was just one more reminder that life as she knew it was never going to be the same again. Charming was just one more reminder that everything she'd thought her life was going to be was now just a not-so-distant memory. She had yet to step foot back on T-M's parking lot...there were just too many memories and being assaulted with that wasn't something she was interested in.

She couldn't erase this anymore than she could erase the ink on her lower back that bore Jax's name. It was something she was always going to have to carry with her, whether she liked it or not. Permanent and forever etched on her soul. Just the knowledge that it was there, that it was on her body, would be nothing but a constant, heavy reminder of what she'd had and of what had been ripped away from her.

With a sigh, she tried not to pay too much attention to the mental clock in her head that reminded her Jax would be out of prison in only two days. Parole had come through exactly the way everyone had hoped it would and with a mostly good behavior record behind all four of them, they were all due to be released soon. Gemma had, thankfully, spared her the details of whatever incident had landed Jax in solitary and was the only real black mark on Samcro's record there in Stockton during this particular tenure. Even though she wanted nothing to do with him at this point, that still didn't mean she wanted to hear about how he'd almost gotten shanked. Still...she could imagine that Jax had probably mouthed off to the wrong inmate and landed himself in a whole heap of trouble. Once a hothead, always a hothead.

She had no idea what in the hell she was going to do when Jax got out of prison. Should she at least try to reach out to him? Should she try to see him? Or let him come to her? What if he didn't? There were just too many questions with answers that she didn't really want to sort out just yet. It was too complicated and too painful to think about for too long.

Isabelle blew out a deep, exasperated exhale and absentmindedly flipped through her iPod for something to listen to. Anything for a distraction...the silence in her car was suddenly becoming deafening. Some good tunes were exactly what she needed right now to take her mind off of all the things she couldn't change.

Because she was too preoccupied, she almost didn't even register that the car behind her had laid on its horn. When she glanced up on reflex, her hands swung the steering wheel over to the shoulder before she crossed right into oncoming traffic. As her car swerved off to the side of the road, she slammed the breaks and forced the gear up into park in a fit of unadulterated frustration.

Great. Just fucking great. All this shit had made her so distracted that she'd just almost gotten into a goddamn car accident. That was the absolute last thing she needed right now...especially when she was driving her mom's car. Jesus, she'd never forgive herself if it got totalled due to her own sheer stupidity and inattentiveness.

With her head firmly lodged in her hands, she barely noticed that the car behind her had also pulled over. Her head snapped up at the sound of car door shutting and her eyes widened in shock when she realized who had been behind her this entire time. With a flash, she dove over into the passenger side for her purse, furiously digging for the knife or pepper spray she knew was still in there from what seemed like ages ago. When Jax had still cared about her. When Jax had still tried to keep her safe.

Her fingers had just closed around the pepper spray when Agent Jordan lightly tapped on her window.

"You alright in there, Isabelle?" he called out to her through the glass.

"I'm fine, Agent Jordan," she pushed out roughly. "Thanks for your help back there."

She hoped that was enough to satisfy him and convince him to leave, but unfortunately, her gut was screaming something much different.

"No problem," Jordan grinned into the glass. "Glad I could help. Who knows what would've happened if I hadn't been right behind you, right?"

Isabelle swallowed tightly and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. All she had to do was stay calm long enough to get him to leave her alone. Then she could Unser...but before then, she had to play it cool.

"Yeah," she nodded stiffly. "That could've been really ugly, huh?"

"Well," he smiled. "I'm glad I could help."

"Me too...thanks again," she made a lame attempt to wave, hoping he would get the hint that she wanted to leave now.

"You know, if you want, I could escort you back to San Francisco...you know, to make sure you make it back in one piece?" Jordan asked hopefully, his eyes glinted with something she couldn't quite place.

"Uh," she gulped. "I think I can handle it. Thanks for the offer though."

Something akin to frustration, disappointment, and annoyance flashed across his face and she felt her heart tumble and plummet directly into her stomach. She needed to get out here and fast.

"Well, thanks again!" she called out with a quick wave as her other hand desperately groped in the air for the shifter.

She didn't want to give him the chance to try to stop her, so she immediately shifted into drive and got the hell out of there, careful not to skid off the side of the road too fast so that Jordan would be alerted to her alarm. As soon as she was safely back on the road, she didn't waste a second to get Unser on the phone.

* * *

"So...that's it?" Isabelle asked, staring down at the paperwork in her hand with slight apprehension.

"Like I told ya, it's a pretty simple process. Couple of signatures, a little bit of paperwork and documentation and then it goes to processing," Unser reassured her as he walked her towards the exit of the precinct.

"I don't know...I guess it just feels like there should be a little more to it," she shrugged.

With another glance at the papers outlining the restraining order against Agent Jordan on her behalf, she carefully tucked them away in her oversized purse. The second she'd brought Unser up to speed on what happened, he'd immediately ordered her to turn around and drive directly to the precinct. Jordan, of course, followed her all the way there before he realized where she was heading and then promptly took a quick turn right before she turned into the parking lot.

Fucking coward.

Of course, he couldn't hide for too long considering he was currently sitting in what was left of his and Stahl's office at the precinct. The echoes of Stahl's shrill voice bounced faintly off the tile floor and she grinned smugly at the thought of the verbal beat-down Jordan was currently suffering.

"So, I can just leave now, right?" she asked hopefully.

Unser eyed her carefully as he chewed on the side of his cheek. "You should call Gemma. Let her know what went down here. Let her tell Clay-"

"I'm not gonna do that," she cut in quickly with a shake of her head. "I told you that already. Clay's just gonna send a bodyguard to follow me around and that's the last thing I want right now. I don't want or need Samcro's help. You said so yourself that the restraining order would send the message...I don't really see why we need to involve the club."

Unser exhaled wearily and rubbed his eyes. "Well, at least call Gemma, alright? She's still family, Isabelle, and you gotta keep your family informed about these things."

It was hard not to wince at Unser's use of the word 'family'. The term stung, even though she knew it was true, and all she wanted to do was just go home to her apartment in San Francisco, crack open a bottle of wine, and forget about all this shit. She didn't want to deal with this anymore and she certainly didn't want to think about it anymore either. Jax didn't want to be with her, so by all rights, the club should really have no place in her life anymore either...but she still couldn't escape what being around the club had exposed her to. Jax severing their ties had only served to break her heart. That was all it had done.

"Yeah, okay," she nodded with a grimace. "I'll call her as soon as I'm back in San Francisco, okay?"

"Isabelle," Unser chided lightly. "You think she's just gonna try to convince you to stay the night?"

"I have an early class tomorrow morning, okay? Look, I'm sorry...this whole thing is just...I just want it to be over, you know? And Gemma's just gonna be Gemma about it all and go a little nuts and there's really nothing she can do about it anyways. At least this way, I'll still 'keep her informed', like you said, but I'll be able to do it on my own terms without being guilted into anything else."

Unser sighed, running a tired hand over his face and just shook his head with a wave of his hand. "I guess I can't argue with that logic. Will you at least call me when you get back to San Francisco? Before you call Gemma, so I know you're back there?"

"That I can do," Isabelle nodded with a small smile. "And thank you. I really appreciate you handling this for me. I don't know what I would've done…"

"You don't have to say anything else, Isabelle. I'm just glad you're alright and that jerk-off was put in his place. I wouldn't worry about him-his job is already on the line now that we filed this paperwork against him and I doubt he'll try anything else."

She nodded again, finally feeling like she could walk out of here without having to look over her shoulder and wonder if Jordan was following her. Over the last few months, she'd constantly had that foreboding, ominous feeling like someone was watching her and even though Bennett had promptly told her it was nothing, she knew better. All Jordan had gotten before was just a slap on the wrist and although she knew the smarter choice was to just let Clay put that protection order back on, her pride just wouldn't allow it. So, she'd suffered in silence and plenty of sleepless nights, thanks to that particular hubris.

Now, though, she felt like this was finally over. If Jordan got within 100 feet of her, she could immediately call the police and there wouldn't be anything he could do about it. She felt like now, she'd finally be able to get some decent sleep tonight-God, that sounded absolutely amazing. That blanket of security propelled her all the way back to her mom's Trans Am and heading back out, once again, towards the highway to go back to San Francisco.

She'd almost made it to the highway when she stopped for a moment at a stop sign just on the edge of town. Just as she lifted her foot off the brake, her entire car violently lurched forward as the car behind her rammed right into her back bumper. As her shoulders slammed into the steering wheel, her hands flared out to stop any impact, groping desperately for something to stop her body from propelling forward.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she muttered under her breath when she finally regained her bearings.

What the hell was that? She was completely stopped...what the fuck? Hadn't she literally just had a narrow miss already today...and now this? She didn't even want to think about the damage to the back end of her mom's Trans Am.

Shaking her head in disbelief, she groped for her purse to find her phone. Whoever was behind her-she really didn't care what the fucking excuse was-was going to get the police called on their asses. And she'd almost gotten a chance to dial the number, too. Almost. Because stalking around the side of her car, with a gun in hand, was a menacing Mexican man.

"Put the phone down," he ordered viciously, gesturing with his gun. "And get the fuck out of the car."

Her entire body froze, unable to process what was happening here. With all breath caught in her throat and no feasible way to force herself to move, all she could do was just sit there and let it happen. Nothing was working...could she get to her knife or her pepper spray in time? What good were those anyways when he had a gun pointed right at her face? She had to focus...she had to stay calm; maybe if she just cooperated and gave them whatever they wanted, they'd leave and she'd be okay.

"Are you fuckin' deaf or somethin'?" The man spat. "Get the fuck out or I'll shoot you right in the fuckin' head!"

That last bone-chilling order spiraled her limbs into action and she hastily unbuckled her seat beat to get out of the car. By the time she was standing in front of him, her entire body was shaking with morbid anticipation, too numb to sort out any real plan of escape. A cold hand jerked her forwards and away from her car as a woman held her elbow in a vice-grip to pull her where they wanted her to go.

"Please...I have some cash in my wallet...and some credit cards. Take it; please, just don't-" she stammered.

"Don't hurt you?" The woman cocked her head at her as she spoke with a smug grin. "Aw...did you hear that, Hector? She wants to play nice...isn't that sweet?"

Hector just laughed evilly next to her as they yanked her towards their car and pushed her into the backseat. The second her body came in contact with the matted seat, her brain went into overdrive...Jax had only told her what she guessed was the man's last name, but her heart dropped into her stomach as the pieces started to come together. Was this the man that had broken into her apartment? That Jax had vengefully beaten to a near-pulp? That had had constantly been in conflict with Jax? That Jax had gotten kicked out of his club? Was this the woman Jax had held a gun to for spite? Oh God...if it was them, she had a feeling she was completely fucked.

There was no way this was going to end well.

"You scream," Hector told her as he pulled away from the scene of the accident and back onto the road. "And Luisa will shoot you. You struggle, and Luisa will shoot you. Got it?"

Isabelle nodded furiously, desperately trying to keep the tears that threatened to tumble down her cheeks at bay. Crying wasn't going to help her here. If anything, it would just make this worse. They were already on the highway with her own car far behind them. Her entire body was trembling now and it was taking all of her willpower not to scream bloody murder. Tears slipped down her cheek as she sucked in a haggard breath, struggling for air, struggling for anything to keep her calm. She furiously wiped away a tear and squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch the road whizzing past her.

"What do you think, Lu?" Hector was saying now. "Should we call Morrow now? Or do we wait until we get to Yaya's?"

Isabelle's head snapped up as the pieces slowly clicked into place. Hector Salazar wanted something and he was going to use her to get it.

"Wait," she interjected desperately. "Jax and I aren't together anymore-I'm not sure what you want, but it's not gonna matter to him. He doesn't care about me-the club isn't gonna-"

"Shut the hell up back there!" Hector roared from the driver's seat, but Isabelle didn't miss the panicked look he shot his girlfriend.

Looks like someone hadn't done their homework.

"I know what happened," Isabelle pressed on firmly, knowing this was her chance. If she could convince them that the club didn't care and wouldn't meet their demands, maybe they'd just shove her out of the car and keep right on driving. "Between you and Jax...I know you got kicked out of your club because of him and what he did to both of you was inexcusable, but...I can tell you right now that no one in the club is going to give two shits about this. Jax definitely won't care-he's getting out of Stockton in two days and I'm just some girl he used to date. That's all. He's not going to care, so you should just-"

Luisa swerved around in the passenger seat to train a gun on her. "Shut the hell up, bitch!"

She snapped her mouth shut at the command. There was no point in arguing, especially if the end result was a bullet in the face.

"Well," Hector snarled as he eyed her from the rearview mirror. "I know he knocked you up, but you're not anymore. I know he gave you a ring before he went inside...so I have a feeling Teller's gonna give a shit. And if he doesn't, well...you'd better fuckin' hope and pray the call with Samcro goes good or this isn't gonna have a happy ending for you, mama."

Isabelle swallowed tightly and slumped back against the seat. She had no idea how he could possibly know that she and Jax had ever been engaged...or about the baby...she flinched at the thought, but this new information was not what she'd anticipated. They'd clearly done at least some of their homework where she was concerned and she didn't want to know how long they'd been trailing after her, just waiting for the moment to strike.

The rest of the ride was deafeningly quiet and as the miles flew by, Isabelle fleetingly wondered if anyone had even realized she was missing yet. At this point, she had no idea where they were or even how long they'd been driving, but, before long, Hector pulled the car into the driveway of a rundown, practically crumbling house with its shutters boarded up. Completely in the middle of nowhere and completely devoid of any real way she could ever escape for long.

By the time they yanked her out of the backseat and shoved her into the abandoned house, Hector already had his phone out and dialing who she could only assume was Clay. Luisa roughly forced her into a chair and made quick work of tying her hands behind her back.

"This is Hector Salazar," he barked into the phone, keeping his gun trained directly on Isabelle as he spoke. "I wanna talk to your Prez. Now."

Faint laughter could be heard from the speaker and Hector's face contorted with unadulterated rage and frustration.

"Tell your Prez I got Teller's old lady with me. I bet that'll get his attention, ese!" Hector spat.

After a few moments of silence while he waited, Isabelle could clearly hear Clay's gruff voice on the other end.

"Yeah, that's right," Hector grinned with a smug nod to Luisa. "I nabbed her on her way out of Charming. Now, look-"

Clay's firm voice cut him off and then Hector impatiently held the phone out to her ear.

"He wants to make sure I really got you," Hector told her sternly. "You tell the Prez you're alright and that's it. Another word and you're gonna be fuckin' sorry, you feel me?"

Isabelle nodded immediately as Hector put the phone to her ear.

"Clay?" she whispered hoarsely.

"Jesus Christ," Clay exhaled with frustrated disbelief. "Are you alright, Isabelle? Did they hurt you?"

"I'm okay…" She didn't have a chance to get another word in because Hector promptly yanked the phone away from her ear.

"You see?" he yelled triumphantly. "I ain't playin' ya. I got her. And if you want Teller's old lady waitin' on him in one piece when he gets outta Stockton, you best gimme what Teller owes me. I want 200 Gs or Teller's old lady is gonna get a bullet in that pretty little head."

Isabelle felt her heart stutter in her chest at finally hearing the terms of her ransom. So that was it. The money or she was dead. Where the hell was the club ever going to get that kind of money? She knew, without a doubt, they'd expended any extra resources they had in bailing the guys out of jail more than six months ago and there was no way they would've been able to replenish that kind of money in that short a time.

"I don't give a shit, Morrow," Hector was spitting out now. "Call me back on this number when you got the money ready to go. You got 48 hours or the bitch is dead."

With that, he snapped the phone shut and shoved it into his back pocket. Isabelle could feel her entire body trembling as he squatted down in front of her, the gun falling leisurely between his legs.

"So here's what's gonna happen," Hector informed her, condescending tone and all. "You're gonna sit here, stay quiet, and we won't gag you. You cooperate, you'll get everything you need. Food. Water. Toilet. All that shit. You don't cooperate and your life'll be really fuckin' shitty until your boys come through with my money."

Isabelle nodded tightly and resisted the urge to struggle against her bindings. This was not the time or the the place to test the strength of those knots.

"Now, you just sit tight and this'll all be over soon, alright?" Hector reassured her, but there was nothing truly reassuring about this. Nothing was going to be alright until she was safely back in her apartment in San Francisco, sipping on her coffee and locked away in her studio, or at the very least, still in her car, parked at that stop sign in Charming. Anything would be fucking better than this.

She just had to stay calm. She just had to make it until they could get the money. She just had to believe that they'd actually be able to get the money. Because if they didn't, she had a sinking feeling that Hector would be true to his word...and there would be no happy ending for her.

* * *

Jax pushed back against the metal table, stretching his back as he waited for Gemma and Clay to arrive. He blew out a deep breath and rubbed his hands anxiously against the rough material of his orange jumpsuit. One more day; that was all he had left to survive. Just one more day. One more fucking day in this hellhole. One more day in this bleak, God-forsaken place. He was never coming back here; that was for sure. And he knew, without a doubt, that he was going to do everything in his power to ensure that nothing like this happened to any of his brothers ever again.

He couldn't just sit by and watch his brother, his best friend, miss anymore time of his daughter's life. He couldn't just sit by and allow the rest of his brothers to put their lives on the line day after day...and for what? For guns? For money? There were other ways to make a living and running guns wasn't it. All that enterprise had done was land him and three of his brothers in Stockton. And if they didn't do anything about it, if he didn't do anything about it, that fucking Jordan would just prove to right over and over again.

The club was his family. It was all he'd ever known, but that didn't mean traditions like running runs needed to stay that way. Just because something had always been done didn't mean they had to keep doing it. Running guns had really brought the club nothing but trouble, violence, and danger. They'd come into contact with other gangs they never would've ever associated with if not out of business necessity.

With his time here at Stockton about to finally come to an end, his resolve was crystal clear. When Clay handed the gavel over to him-no matter when that came down the line-he was going to change the way the club did business. He was going to get them out of guns and ensure the safety of his brothers and their families. Nobody was ever going to prison for something like this again, at least not on his fucking watch.

And when he busted out of here, he was going to get on his hands and knees and beg Isabelle to forgive him. Whatever he had to do, however long he had to wait, he was going to do it. If he could just explain, if he could just make her see that he hadn't meant the shit he'd said to her, that he did it because he was trying to protect her, because her loved her, maybe she would understand. He didn't deserve her forgiveness right away and he certainly didn't deserve the right to be back in her life, but he would wait. He would prove to her that everything he'd done for the last year and a half had all been for her, that she was the most important thing in his life...even though he'd had a real shitty way of showing it. The problem was he didn't know exactly how to go about doing that; hell, he didn't even know where to start. All he knew was that he was just going to have to follow her lead...wherever that took them.

Pushing her away was the biggest mistake of his life. He hadn't realized it at the time and he'd honestly believed it was the right thing, but after Gemma's brutal wake-up call, reality had slapped him in the face. Severing their ties had served no purpose other than to put her even more at risk than when she'd still been his old lady.

That fucking ATF agent wasn't going to go away, even if he was laying low right now. Well, he wouldn't be for long. After he got the hell out of here and after he reached out to Isabelle, his first order of business was to put that motherfucker in his place for once and for all.

Just 24 more hours and he was free. Finally free to make things right. Finally free to start living his life again.

Just as he was starting to get a little impatient, Gemma and Clay came into view as they shuffled anxiously towards his table. The second he got a good look at their grim, ashen faces, everything seemed to come to a screeching halt. The fact that something was wrong here was an understatement. If it was something with the club, he couldn't imagine why Gemma would be here too...unless…

He didn't have time to conjecture for too long because Gemma and Clay were already seated right across from him. Dread seeped down his throat and dropped straight down to his stomach as his mother's blood-shot, grief-stricken black eyes slowly moved up to meet his and he knew. He didn't the how or the why, but he knew it nonetheless.

"What?" he prompted anxiously. "What's wrong?"

Gemma's eyes darted over to Clay, who nodded tightly to her, as if to give her permission to speak.

"Something's happened, Jax," Gemma murmured quietly with a grim expression. "I don't know how to tell you this, so I'm just gonna come out and say it. Salazar kidnapped Isabelle...he's holding her for ransom, says he wants $200,000 for her."

For a moment, he wasn't sure he'd heard his mother correctly. He'd been mentally preparing himself to hear that Jordan was behind this, that Jordan had done something to Isabelle...but fucking Salazar? What the hell was he thinking? After how many months of nothing, he just suddenly decided to get revenge and use Isabelle as his leverage to get it? Nothing about this made any sense. Nothing about this could possibly be fucking true. What the fuck had happened?

"When?" That was all he was able to choke out. That was the best he could manage, given the fact that he'd just learned the woman he loved and would always love was in dire danger because of his idiocy.

"Yesterday," Clay jumped in as Gemma's eyes welled up with unshed tears. "Listen, Jax, I've talked to her twice already. I'm makin' that asshole keep me updated to make sure he's treatin' her okay."

_Or,_ Jax thought bitterly with mounting panic, _to make sure she's still alive_.

"She sounded alright," Clay continued, but the reassurance didn't help. "Look, Jax, we're doin' everything we can to get the money, but most of our assets went to bailin' you boys out six months ago."

Jax shook his head furiously, barely able to process what he was hearing. "Empty my bank account. I've got $20,000 in a safe at the house. Take everything...give him the house; give him my fuckin' bike; I don't fuckin' care...give him whatever he wants!"

He could see Gemma doing some quick mental calculations and then felt the sharp kick of reality. It still wasn't enough. Everything he had to give still wasn't enough.

"That's still not enough, baby," Gemma whispered hoarsely. "All our money combined-what's left of our savings, Donna's savings, her dad's savings...it's still not enough with this short of time. He gave us 48 hours to get the money, Jax, or he said he's gonna kill her."

Bile burned his throat and he had to lean down into his hands to keep himself from pounding into the table like a mad man. His shoulders trembled as his body struggled to stay upright. This couldn't be fucking happening. This wasn't what his life had amounted to. He wasn't sitting here, rendered completely fucking helpless, as his parents explained that Isabelle would be dead in a day if they couldn't get their hands on $200,000.

"I put a call into Alvarez, let him know what his old boy was up to, and he's got his guys on it, too. They're tryin' to figure out where Salazar might've stashed her and I got a sit-down with Oswald as soon as we get back to the clubhouse to see if he's interested in giving us a loan. We'll find her, Jax, and if push comes to shove, we'll get him the money. She's gonna be alright."

"How the fuck did this happen? How did he get close enough to her?" Jax spat, desperately folding his hands into his lap so he didn't punch the table. That would end this visit real quick and he needed all the information. He needed to know exactly what had happened, or, at least, what the club knew.

"Isabelle came to the precinct to file a restraining order against Jordan," Clay started with a sigh, his eyes shooting up to Jax as if he was already anticipating the inevitable reaction.

Jax felt his heart plummet right into his already churning stomach. This was just too much to process...hadn't she already been through enough shit? Between him being a complete asshole, having to deal with him being in prison...and the baby...and now that bastard Salazar grabbing her, wasn't that fucking enough? But no, the universe had to throw this shit in too. The barely-bridled rage coursing through him festered into a deep, black simmer as Clay continued on with the details.

"The bastard was following her from Charming back to San Francisco and so Unser told her to turn around and come to the precinct. When she never called him to tell him she was back in San Francisco, he knew something was up and went lookin' for her. By the time he called us, Salazar had already put in his demands...Unser found her car at a stop sign right outside of town. The rear-end was smashed in, so Salazar probably rammed into her when she stopped and then grabbed her before she could do much else," Clay informed him tiredly.

"Why the fuck is he doin' this now? After all this time...it just doesn't make any sense…" Jax trailed off, unable to go any further.

Clay just shook his head sadly. "You know how Salazar operates, son. Lookin' at it now, you gotta see there was always gonna be blowback with that rat bastard. He was never gonna let what he did to him, to his old lady, go without a fight. He's probably just been waitin' for the right moment and you practically handed it to him by reactin' the way you did to the break-in. He wants you to suffer, son; that's why he waited until two days before you got out. He wants you to have to sit here with this and not be able to do shit."

"Why does he want $200,000? He told me himself he was gonna get $100,000 from that deal I blew for him…"

"He probably doubled his salary, you know?" Clay conjectured solemnly. "I don't know about you, but if I were him, I'd probably do the exact same thing. Why not ask for enough to set him and his woman up nicely for awhile? They wouldn't have to worry about anything for a long time, if they played it right, that is. He probably thinks it's what you owe him."

Jax's head fell even deeper into his hands. He'd never felt so fucking helpless or desperate in his entire life. This was exactly what that fucker wanted and he was getting it. He was fucking winning. His head snapped up at that last thought. There was no way he was going to let Salazar win. When he got out of here, he was going to tear that bastard apart, limb by limb. Painfully and slowly.

Salazar might as well have just signed his own death warrant because there was no way he was going to make it out of this with his life intact. If Isabelle died, because of him, because of his hot-headed, shoot first, ask questions later mentality, Salazar was going to pay for those mistakes. If Isabelle made it out of this in one piece, Salazar was still a dead man. Jax just might have a little more mercy and put him out of his misery without too much suffering.

"Do whatever you gotta do," Jax ordered icily. "Whatever keeps Iz alive until I can get the fuck out of here. Whatever you have to promise him, whatever you have to do, you fuckin' do it. She's not gonna pay for my mistakes, Clay. She doesn't deserve that shit. She doesn't deserve any of this shit."

"I know, son," Clay nodded grimly. "I'll talk to Alvarez again, figure out a way we can stall him until tomorrow."

"I'm so sorry, baby," Gemma whispered. "We had to tell you. We couldn't let you just sit here, not knowing...I know that's exactly what he wants, but we had to tell you."

Jax just sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I know, Ma; it's alright. I'm glad you told me."

"We'll be back tomorrow to get you boys the hell out here," Clay told him firmly. "And then, if we haven't by then, we're gonna go get your girl, Jax. Nothing's gonna happen to her."

Jax nodded solemnly and stood to give his parents a quick embrace before they had to leave. There was no way anything was gonna happen to Isabelle. Even if they couldn't get the rest of the money in time, they'd find her. Alvarez would get some sort of intel and they'd figure out where that motherfucker was keeping her. That asshole wasn't going to get a fucking cent from the club. Shit like this didn't get you rewarded. Shit like this got you a bullet right between the eyes. That was exactly what Salazar had earned himself in gambling with the life of the woman he loved.

And fucking then some.

* * *

Isabelle's stomach growled with a low rumble, making Luisa's eyebrows rise in silent amusement. The bitch took great pleasure in starving her and as of the last few hours, had made no efforts to hide said amusement. It took all of Isabelle's remaining strength not to struggle furiously against her bindings.

She just had to stay calm.

Just a few more hours, she reasoned. Just a few more hours and this would all be over. Either the club would come through with the money or Hector would make good on his threat. Still, even in her broken-down, frustrated state, she had to believe that the club would come through. That they'd either figure out how to get him the money or they'd somehow find her before Hector finally realized he wasn't going to get what he wanted.

She'd already survived over a day of this. Overall, the experience had been somewhat tolerable. While they'd kept her tied up at the kitchen table and she knew there was going to be some serious ugly bruises on her wrists, they'd more or less treated her with as much respect as one would expect in a situation like this. Hector had even turned the TV on for her, not like she paid much attention to it, but the background noise helped her tune out all the bad shit around her.

They'd only untied her twice to use the bathroom and she'd taken her sweet time, relishing in these few precious minutes of peace and quiet. But then, Hector had pounded on the bathroom door less than five minutes later, barely giving her enough time to do what she needed to do, massage her swollen wrists, and stretch her legs.

"Aw," Luisa called out to her from across the kitchen. "You hungry, bitch? Too fuckin' bad. You're just gonna have to wait. You don't eat until I see some cash."

"You can't starve her for too long," Hector yelled at her from the living room, glancing up from the football game. "We gotta make sure she goes back to Samcro in one piece or it doesn't fuckin' matter if we got the money or not."

"She'll be one piece, Hector," Luisa threw back at him. "I'm just havin' a little fun with her is all."

Hector just shrugged and turned back to the game, seemingly eager to forget the fact that they had a woman tied up in their kitchen. Well, Isabelle figured this probably wasn't really their kitchen. This house was located in an abandoned neighborhood after all. This probably wasn't anybody's kitchen. Not like it really mattered anyways. All this was doing was passing the time, passing the time until-

Before Isabelle had a chance to even realize what was happening, the front door to the house was kicked in and all hell broke loose. There was barely a moment to register Luisa screaming bloody murder at the top of her lungs or Hector scrambling over the side of the couch to get to her because Agent Jordan had already fired a shot directly into Hector's ankle.

Hector howled in pain, grasped his ankle as blood seeped from the bullet would and saturated the stained, matted carpet beneath his feet. Luisa lunged for him, but Jordan trained his gun right on her chest.

"Take another step," he barked. "And I'll shoot you. Take two steps, I'll finish him."

Luisa's hands immediately shot to the ceiling and he gestured with his gun for her to get down on the carpet. She obliged, casting Isabelle a quick, panicked glance, and then laid down right on the floor next to Hector. As Jordan stepped around them and immediately started patting them down for weapons, Isabelle felt the numbness finally start to subside. It was over now, wasn't it? Jordan would take her back to Charming and everything would just go back to normal. She'd be able to forget this had all happened and then, somehow, it would all be just a distant nightmare. That was all.

A split second later, Jordan was stepping around her two abductors on the floor and gingerly freed her from her bindings, careful of the ugly, red bruises that had chewed away at her wrists and then after shooting her a tender, sympathetic glance, turned back to the two figures splayed out on the carpet. After breaking the rope that had bound her in half, he roughly yanked Hector's hands behind his back and tied them tightly, making Hector wince from the force. Then, Jordan turned his attention to Luisa and did the same.

"I'm sure you're wondering how I learned your location," Jordan told Hector quietly, still crouched between his legs. "It really wasn't that difficult, but, I guess when you've got access to the ATF's files, you can learn just about anything you need to know about a person of interest. And you, my friend, were a person of interest in the Samcro case. Of course, I never anticipated it would ever come to this or that you'd ever be this stupid. I mean, come on, did you really think you'd get away with it, Hector? That you'd really get your money and then you'd be able to walk away just like that?"

Hector moaned in agony as he twisted and struggled against his bindings. As Jordan stalked towards her, Isabelle froze like a deer in head lights. What was she supposed to do now? Where did they go from here? She almost didn't want to know the answer to that question...the possibilities were too terrifying to consider.

"I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner," Jordan was saying to her now, a slightly crazed expression slipping across his eyes. "I should've known he would take you to his grandmother's house...I just didn't put it together as soon as I should have. I'm so sorry you had to suffer for as long as you did."

He reached out tenderly to her and as his fingers grazed her arm, she couldn't stop herself from flinching at the contact.

"Isabelle," he whispered. "Tell me what to do."

"I wanna go home, Agent Jordan...please," she pleaded. "Please take me home."

He shook his head as if to erase that request. It clearly wasn't what he wanted to hear and so, he tried again. "What do you want me to do about them? Whatever you want...all you have to do is say it, Isabelle."

This was all just too much. There was blood splattered across the carpeting and Hector's cries of anguish bounced off the walls. What was did he really expect her to say here? All she wanted to do was go home. All she wanted to do was get out of this house and into her apartment. She needed a shower. She needed a hot, satisfying meal. She didn't need-

"What do you want me to do, Isabelle?" Jordan prompted firmly.

Isabelle's eyes darted wildly from the figures bound on the floor and back up to Jordan. Was she really saved? Would he really take her back to Charming if she asked?

"Please," she pleaded desperately as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Please, just take me home. I just wanna go home."

Something she couldn't quite place flashed across his eyes and then he shifted his attention back to his captives on the floor, training the gun right on Luisa's skull.

"Well," he bit out icily. "I guess it looks like you've so badly traumatized the woman I love that she can't even form a coherent sentence."

She couldn't have heard him right. Did he really just-

"Well, if she can't decide, then I guess I'm just gonna have to decide for her."

With that, Jordan fired one shot:directly into Luisa's head.

* * *

**A/N-I know, I know...cliffhangers are a bitch, but gotta up the suspense, right? Anyways, things are about to go downhill from here (not like things already weren't on a downward spiral). All I can say is that it's gonna get worse before it gets better, and like I told alistensrude, Isabelle was way safer with Salazar than she's going to be with Jordan, which is really saying something. **

**I'm going to do my best to get the next chapter up asap, but I've got a pretty busy week ahead of me, so I can't make any promises on exactly when next week I'll have the next update ready. Anyways, I'm looking forward to hearing all your predictions for what's going to happen next. Jax is going to get out of Stockton in the next chapter and, of course, will be trying to find Isabelle...what will he find? Haha, I'm so evil. **

**Thanks to everyone that's stuck with this and reviewed/alerted/favorited. I can't wait to hear your reactions to this chapter!**


	15. Facade

Isabelle didn't even realize she was screaming until the sound of her own voice vibrated and crashed in her ears. Blood had splattered the carpet with wet, scarlet splashes and bile burned her throat. Her hand clutched her stomach as the other moved to cover her mouth. This couldn't be happening...all hope of a happy ending just flew right out the window with one gun shot. Dread replaced her immediate shock and now, all she could do was stumble backwards into the kitchen, desperate to put as much space between her and Jordan as possible.

"How do you like it, huh?" Jordan screamed as Hector, still face first on the carpet with his hands bound behind him, sobbed into his girlfriend's blood. "How does it feel, huh? How does it feel to have the woman you love tortured right in front of you? This is what you fucking deserve after what you did. You had this coming, Hector...and you gave me no choice."

Only Hector's muffled, choked sobs could be heard as Jordan hovered over their bodies, his chest heaving violently, and he kept his gun trained directly on Hector's head. Suddenly, Jordan's eyes shifted from the bodies on the floor to Isabelle, who veered back haggardly.

"What do you think, Isabelle?" Jordan asked breathlessly and gestured towards Hector with his gun. "What should I do with him?"

Isabelle just shook her head furiously, unable to conjure any sort of coherent response. This wasn't happening...all she wanted to do was go home. She squeezed her eyes shut as her hand clamped down on the same chair that she'd been bound to only moments before. At this point, would she be better off if she were still bound to that chair and at the mercy of Hector and Luisa? As Jordan took an aggressive step into the kitchen, his eyes glazed with a blackened sheen, Isabelle felt her stomach plummet.

It was clear what the answer to that question was and now, she'd give anything to rewind the last few days. To be home. To be anywhere else. And the only image that flashed through her mind was Jax. In spite of everything that happened, she wondered fleetingly if she'd ever see him again, if he'd ever hold her again, and if he'd get the chance to get to her before it was too late. Because he would...right? He would find her. He wouldn't allow this to happen.

But it was too late.

Because Jordan was already stalking towards her, gun still in hand, and that menacingly crazed expression in his gray eyes told her everything she needed to know. There would be no happy endings. No happily ever afters. At least not for her; not right now. It had always been there between them. From the very first moment she'd met him, she'd innately known this was going to happen. She'd felt that foreboding every time his eyes settled on her and now she understood what that shiver he'd caused her was: a warning.

"What do you want me to do, Isabelle?" he prompted again hastily. The manic expression in his eyes seemed to multiply by the second and she couldn't stop herself from backpedalling away from him.

"I…" she stammered, looking helplessly to Hector, who was still crying into Luisa's crimson blood. "Please...just take me home."

All control slipped out of her hands, just like the tears that were now streaming down her cheeks. She didn't know what else to do.

Jordan just shook his head, clearly dissatisfied with her response. "No, baby, what do you want me to do about him?"

Something flashed through her mind and she was suddenly back in that coffeehouse where he'd only cornered her. The look in his eyes then was the same as it was now, but more hopeful, almost desperate for her to accept what he was offering and for a moment, she wondered if he wouldn't listen to her request to go home, maybe he would follow her lead if she could play along long enough for Jax to find her. If she could give him a little of what he wanted, maybe she could stall...do anything until something worse happened. As if it could really be worse…

"Maybe you should just leave him," she supplied hoarsely. "Let him lay there."

Jordan studied her carefully before nodding slowly. "Right...yeah, you're right. Let him bleed out, right? Let him sit here with her...he won't be able to get up; he won't be able to get to her. He'll just have to sit here and look at her while he bleeds to death. Yeah, that's what we're gonna do."

It wasn't so much that she didn't necessarily wanted to see Hector suffer anymore than he already had. It had more to do with the fact that she didn't want to see anyone else get a bullet in the head today, or any day, for that matter.

He continued nodding to himself as he stepped closer to extend a hand towards her. "Come on," he was saying now. "Let's get out of here."

As much as she wanted to turn and run, she knew he'd never let her get far. She had no other options other than to just cooperate, as much as she was physically and mentally able to, until she could figure something else out. He wasn't going to do anything but make this painful for her if she struggled...and she was just too drained to know how to do anything other than to gingerly slid her hand into Jordan's and allow him to carefully lead her around the bodies still on the floor and out of the house.

Helpless and allowing herself to be dragged out of the house wasn't exactly how she saw this playing out, but at least she was still alive. There had to be some sort of silver lining here and maybe this was it. Maybe she could convince Jordan to take her back to Charming; maybe she could convince Jordan to just let her go.

That little spark of hope carried her all the way to Jordan's car, but by the time he was gently pushing her head down into the car, her body struggled to maintain any semblance of composure. When she slumped into the passenger seat, the full-on panic attack just barely brimmed at the surface. With her chest heaving wildly and her eyes staring on a dead-lock straight ahead, there was nothing she could do now. She was in the car and now, completely at his mercy.

God, she never should've gotten in the car. Why didn't she fight him? Why didn't she at least try to make a run for it?

And as Jordan's eyes roamed hungrily over her, she knew. A moment later, he was leaning closer to her, bringing his lips in to find hers, and she instinctively turned her head, desperate to put as much distance between them as possible. There was no way she was going to give him this victory. He was no better than Salazar at this point...in fact, he was even more despicable. Murder trumped kidnapping any day and the image of Luisa's lifeless, bloodless face would haunt her nightmares. Unfortunately, she had a sinking feeling that her nightmare was only just beginning.

"That's alright," Jordan whispered to her as he reached out to stroke her cheek. It took all of her willpower to only slightly flinch at his touch. "I can wait. I've already waited so long...what's a little more waiting, right?"

He chuckled as he settled back into the driver's seat and started backing them out of the driveway.

"Where are we going?" she asked tentatively, knowing that if she asked him point-blank about going back to Charming, he might not be as tender as he was being right now. She needed to keep him this happy and content for as long as possible.

"I'm not sure," he flashed her a brief smile as he spoke. "I'm thinking maybe we just drive for awhile until we feel like stopping. How does that sound, baby?"

The familiarity and tenderness in his voice threatened to send her entire body into convulsions. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head to the window to keep him from seeing her reaction. If she could just keep him happy for a little while longer, maybe that would be enough. Maybe she could make a run for it when they stopped, or, at the very least, get to a phone.

"Um...sure, okay," she stammered back, praying he didn't catch the way her voice shook.

He sent her a reassuring smile and squeezed her left thigh, making her jump at the contact. "I know you're a little shaken up by everything that went down back there, but you don't have anything to be scared of anymore. You never have to worry about anything anymore, Isabelle."

Her head shook almost imperceptibly, but his eyes darkened with a smoky glaze.

"Don't you see what I did, Isabelle?" he pressed on desperately. "You never have to go back there again. You never have to be surrounded by all those criminals ever again. You're free now. Free of all of them."

Chills ran down her spine and it was all clear to her now. The son of a bitch actually thought he was _saving_ her. As if the person she needed saving from was nobody other than him. Was he really that delusional to actually believe everything he was saying? Maybe the better question was how in the hell he'd been able to fly under the radar for so long and never alerted anyone to his insanity.

"Do you think maybe we could stop at my apartment? I'd really like to change and I can grab some clothes…" she trailed off with a gulp as his eyes shot over to her.

"No," he shook his head adamantly. "You have to leave all that behind now, baby. You can't take anything from your old life with you. I want us to have a clean slate, Isabelle, and that means you can't bring any of that baggage with you."

_And_, she thought bitterly, _you don't want to risk Bennett or anyone else who knows me in San Francisco seeing us_. If he knew all the other intimate details of her life, it was safe to assume he knew everything there was to know about her life in San Francisco. Just the thought of him following her, watching her every move, made the bile rise up in her throat again.

"I don't care about any of it...you know that, right?" Jordan was informing her now, his eyes darting back to her as he continued to drive the car aimlessly down the highway. "Everything and everyone you're leaving behind, it doesn't matter anymore. All of it...your history with Teller, the baby, your dad, Samcro, you can leave all of those bad memories behind now. It's just gonna be you and me now, baby."

She swallowed tightly, desperate to push the panic away. Lingering on all of those memories, on everything he'd just mentioned, would only send her skating even closer towards the edge of oblivion. No...she just had to hang on for a little longer. Just long enough to alert someone to the madman currently holding her hostage.

"It's just you and me now, Isabelle," he whispered again. "Just you and me."

Isabelle rested her head against the window, forcing her breath in and out as her bleary eyes followed the road that flashed by. That was the only way she was going to survive this. She just had to pretend like everything was going to be alright, that there was hope, that maybe there'd be some way to reason with him, to convince him to take her home. Because if she allowed herself to focus on the reality, she also had to admit that she wasn't heading anywhere but straight into hell.

* * *

Jax paced anxiously in the holding room, desperate to get the fuck out of these walls and his ass onto his bike. Just a few more minutes and he'd be out of this hellhole. That was all he could focus on...just a few more minutes. Shit, he really needed a cigarette. Anything to calm his nerves...but he knew he would never really be calm until he knew Isabelle was safe and out of danger.

He'd stalked around his tiny cell for the last 12 hours like a caged animal, crazed with helplessness and desperation. There was nothing else he could do, save for calling Gemma and Clay as often as the prison rules would allow for any updates. All he'd gotten from them was that Samcro maybe had a lead on Salazar's hideout from Alvarez, but that was it. Intel like that wasn't enough to see him through to the end of his tenure here in Stockton and it was taking all of his remaining willpower not to start punching holes right through the brick wall in front of him.

"Just cool it, Teller," the guard standing in front of his way out of here told him tersely. "You're almost done."

Almost wasn't good enough. He needed to be out of here now. He needed to be on his bike headed to wherever Salazar was keeping her. Then he was going to beat that motherfucker to a bloody pulp. And then he was going to bring Isabelle home where she belonged.

He squeezed his eyes shut, desperate to shove the images of her that flooded his mind out for the time being. Focusing on how scared she might be or if Salazar had hurt her wouldn't do himself any favors right now. He could focus on that later when he got the hell out of here.

And as the guard finally opened the door to finally let him out into the California sunlight, he vowed that he was never coming back here. Never again would he put himself in a situation to leave the person he cared about more than anything in the world vulnerable. He was barely cognizant of the fact that Opie, Chibs, and Juice were hot on his heels as he stalked toward the rest of the club and Gemma, who were waiting for them. The only thought on his mind right now was getting to Isabelle.

That was all he had to do. Everything else would work itself out, however it played out. He could deal with the consequences later. What he needed to do right now was just find her and see her safely out of wherever Salazar was keeping her.

"I think we gotta a location," Clay told him as Jax reached out to quickly embrace him and then his mother. "I haven't been able to get Salazar on the phone, but Alvarez called in a few resources and thinks he might be holed up as his dead grandma's house."

"That's good enough for me," Jax responded simply, swinging a leg over the side of his bike. There was no point in wasting another second. They needed to get on the road and they needed to do it now. "Let's go."

It didn't matter to him that a prospect pulled the van away to take Gemma back to T-M; none of this mattered right now. His impatience was starting to get the best of him as they sped away from Stockton and out onto the highway. At this point, he was just blindly following Clay, knowing that Clay would take him where he needed to go and putting full trust in him as both his step-father and his president.

The entire ride, all two hours of it, flew by in a persistent rush of cement, paint, and nothing else. Nothing could keep him her. Come hell or high water, he was going to find her. It didn't matter what it took or what methods he had to use. He would find her...and somehow, someway, he would beg for her forgiveness.

By the time he was skidding his bike into the driveway of a decrepit, abandoned house, all reason and all logic flew from his mind.

"Clay, you got a piece for me?" he called out, not wanting to waste a second more.

He hesitated long enough for Clay to pass him a gun and then, in spite of Clay and Opie's shouts to wait until he had a little more back up, he kicked through the front door with the gun in hand, his finger itchy to pull the trigger.

At first, his senses were assaulted with...nothing. There was just nothing. He'd been expecting anything but this eery silence and as his heart thumped wildly in his chest, he ventured in a little further, peering cautiously around the corner. Before his brain could catch up with him, his eyes fell on Salazar, who was lying facedown in a pool of blood. The body of a brunette woman rested next to him and the sound of Salazar's muffled cries barely reached Jax's ears as he scrambled over to the scene.

Jax's hands were around Salazar's neck before he even knew what he was doing.

"Where the fuck is she? What did you do to her?" Jax bellowed before rearing up to slam his fist right into Salazar's face.

He continued to pummel the bastard right up until Clay and Chibs pulled him off of him as Salazar moaned pathetically into the matted carpet.

"Calm the hell down, Jax!" Clay barked. "That shit's not gonna help you find her any faster."

Jax shoved out of his grasp, his chest heaving dangerously as he turned his attention back to the broken man lying in front of him. He crouched down to Salazar's level and let Happy slice through his bindings. Once he was free, Jax gripped him tightly by the shirt and hoisted him up so that they were eye to eye.

"I'm gonna ask you again," Jax spat. "Where the fuck is she?"

Salazar shook his head adamantly as a fat tear rolled down his cheek, his eyes glued to the body only a few feet away from them. "I don't know."

Jax snarled and shoved the asshole closer to force him to look at him. "What do you mean you don't know? You fuckin' took her, didn't you? And now she's gone? What the fuck are you talkin' about?"

"I don't know...I don't know," Salazar moaned into his hands and as he tore his fingers away from his face, his eyes landed sullenly on the lifeless body in the room. "This is my fault...Luisa...it's all my fault."

Jax's attention shifted momentarily to the dead woman at his feet. Split seconds later, his blood halted in his veins. Something wasn't right in this house. It had been there, lingering over him, when he'd rushed inside, but he'd been too blinded by rage and the need to get to Isabelle to see it. Salazar's shirt slipped through his fingers and he fell into a heap next to his dead woman with a devastated exhale.

"What happened?" Jax asked him; this time, the rage had ebbed into something more akin to fear.

Salazar just shook his head again, his eyes still locked on the woman's body. "I wasn't gonna hurt her...I just wanted to keep her long enough to get the money. That was it...I never thought it would all get fucked like this…"

"What. Happened." Jax asked yet again, enunciating every syllable like he was talking to a two-year-old.

"He just burst in here and started shooting," Salazar gestured to his ankle and Jax's eyes widened at the glaringly obvious bullet wound, something he'd completely passed over before. "He tied us up and then he shot Luisa...then he took her."

"Isabelle?"

Salazar nodded distantly.

"What did he look like? What did he say?" Jax pressed, needing this intel immediately. His instincts screamed one name, but he prayed to God he was wrong.

"I don't know...I didn't really get a good look at the guy," Salazar replied hoarsely. "He seemed like a cop though...he said somethin' about being sorry he couldn't get to her sooner."

Jax took a reflexive step back as his throat went dry and all the blood drained from his face. That was all the confirmation he needed. That was it.

"It was Jordan." Jax could barely hear the sound of his voice above the screaming in his head. "When? How long ago?"

"Maybe ten...fifteen minutes...I'm not really sure," Salazar shook his head one more time, his eyes falling helplessly to the woman in front of him.

Oh God...Jax's knees buckled and his stomach threatened to empty itself right out onto the carpet. He'd been so close. So fucking close to getting to her he could practically taste it. And now, whether it was ten or fifteen minutes, Jordan had a head start. There was no telling where that motherfucker was taking her or what he was going to do to her when he got there. Just as all the horrific possibilities ran through his head, Jax erupted, kicking over a nearby kitchen chair in a flash of fury.

He ran his hands over his face as he sank down onto the edge of the couch, clinging to what little control he had left. Blowing out a deep breath, his bleary eyes fell on Clay, who was staring back at him grimly.

"I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry…" Salazar was murmuring in between sobs and for a split second, Jax thought those pathetic sentiments were directed towards him, but then he realized that those same cries were whispered over the body of his dead girlfriend.

His eyes glazed over as the image of the dead, bloodied girl on the floor morphed into one who had blonde hair and in that moment, as much as he wanted to wrap his hands around Salazar's neck and squeeze until the motherfucker turned blue, he knew he couldn't do that. What he was suffering now and would continue to suffer for the rest of his life was punishment enough. If their roles were reversed, Jax would be right where Salazar was now...sobbing into the matted, bloodied hair of the woman he loved. And in that moment, he was nothing but grateful that he was sitting where he was and that there was still a kernel of hope left that the next time he saw Isabelle, she might still be alive.

All he could do now was hang on to that hope for as long as it carried him.

"What do you want us to do, Jax?" Clay's tired voice called out to him.

When Jax's eyes snapped up to him, Clay just shrugged. "Your girl, your call, son."

Jax glanced briefly at Salazar, who was still crying softly on the floor. "We gotta call Stahl. Let her know what's up with her partner. If anyone can help us find this motherfucker, it's gotta be her, right?"

If anything, she'd at least have access to more resources more quickly. At this point, he was past the point of caring how they got to Isabelle, just as long as she was safe and miles away from the sick fuck who had her. And he'd be hard-pressed to believe that the second Stahl learned what Jordan had done, she wouldn't hesitate to throw out any lead she had to at least save face. Given what he knew about her, he figured she wouldn't want her reputation sullied by the sins of her partner and would scramble to stop Jordan before shit got any worse.

When Clay nodded tersely at the plan, he gestured with his head towards Salazar. "What do you wanna do with him?"

Jax's eyes fell on Salazar one last time and he pushed down the simmering rage that flooded through him. While this whole nightmare had been put in motion by Salazar's greed and poor planning, this asshole was really the lesser of the two evils here. Besides, Jax wanted to save his rage for when he finally came face to face with Jordan.

"You think you can patch him up?" Jax directed at Chibs, who promptly crouched down to examine the wound.

"Aye, Jackie...he's probably never gonna walk right though if I do it," Chibs informed him tightly from his spot on the floor.

Jax's lips curled back into a snarl as his eyes fell on the instigator of all this shit. "Fuck if I care."

Clay just nodded in agreement and pointed at Juice. "Take care of the body. Call a prospect over here to help you."

When Salazar's cries escalated into horrified wails and as he moved to throw himself over his dead woman's body, Jax seized him by the collar and shoved him in Chibs' direction.

"This is a gift, you fuckin' asshole," Jax sneered and jabbed a finger in his face. "Don't fuck it up."

Salazar just continued to cry over Luisa's body, whispering, "It's my fault...it's all my fault…"

Nobody deserved this shit...not even a dumbfuck like Salazar and his obviously idiotic girlfriend, who'd went along with his half-brained plan. But Jax couldn't focus on the tragedy just a few feet away from him. The only thing he could focus his energy on now was preventing that same tragedy from happening again.

"Get Stahl on the phone," Jax barked.

They couldn't waste anymore time on Salazar. With each second that ticked by, Jordan inched further and further away from his grasp, taking the only person that mattered to him right along with him.

* * *

After two hours of driving, Isabelle instinctively knew she needed to convince Jordan it was time to pull over. There was already too much distance between her and the people she knew would be looking for her, especially given that she wasn't entirely sure how much distance was between the house Salazar had held her in and Charming. Either way, she needed to stall and she needed to convince Jordan that she was happy to be here, as much as the facade made her want to vomit. It was the only shot she had at getting out of this in one piece.

So, despite the uneasiness that took root in her stomach, she gingerly turned to Jordan and flashed him a careful smile. "I'm pretty hungry. Do you think maybe we could stop soon?"

Maybe if they stopped at a gas station, she could get to a phone and at least discreetly alert someone to her predicament. She couldn't risk making a scene...Jordan was a ticking time bomb and a wrong move, a wrong word could set him off and if they were in a crowd of people, there was no telling what he would do or who would get hurt. She couldn't run out into the crowd screaming at the top of her lungs and take the risk that he would open fire on her and anyone else in between them. That wasn't going to get her out of this alive.

Jordan eyed her carefully before a slow smile spread across his face as he reached over and gently squeezed her thigh. It took all of her remaining resolve not to flinch at his touch.

"Sure, baby," he told her softly. "We can stop wherever you want."

"Okay," she grinned back at him, her eyes already scanning the road for a place to stop. "They didn't give me much to eat...I think I could a whole horse right now."

He laughed heartily at that, even though she knew what she'd said hadn't actually been that funny. "Don't worry, Isabelle, I'll take care of it. You don't have to worry about anything anymore."

God, if she had to hear him say that one more time...every word that came out of his mouth was sick and twisted and delusional and it just made her that much more aware of her precarious situation. One wrong move, one wrong look, one wrong word...and it would all be over.

"What about here?" Isabelle pointed to the diner right on the side of the road. It wasn't so much the diner that interested her, but the motel directly behind it.

"If that's what you want," he replied. He shot her a look that on anyone else might've been sweet. On him, it looked monstrous, demonic even. Nothing but a signal of his true nature, one that she desperately needed to keep at bay.

"Right now, I don't care what it is just as long as it's food," she laughed, silently praying her grin didn't slide into a grimace.

With her nerves already on edge, it was all she could do to keep her legs from bouncing anxiously from her spot in the passenger's seat. He pulled into a parking spot at the diner swiftly and before she had a chance to unbuckle her seat belt, Jordan was already coming around the side of the car to open her door.

"After you, milady," he grinned down at her and held out his hand for her to take.

She swallowed tightly and slowly slid her hand into his. "Thank you, sir."

Her breath caught in her throat when he suddenly drew her to his chest and whispered into her hair, "I don't need to tell you to behave, now do I?"

"Of course not," she smiled back up at him and despite the screaming in her head, she stood up on her toes to peck him lightly on the cheek.

The entire meal passed by more or less the same way. Every opportunity she had to smile shyly back at him and to tell him exactly what she knew he wanted to hear, she had to take it. The second she sat down in the booth, her thoughts immediately flew to what Jax or Gemma would do in this situation. So she took careful inventory of her surroundings; there only seemed to be two ways out of this diner: the way they came in and through the kitchen. It didn't look like the place could hold very many people and during this time of day, it wasn't very crowded either. The waitresses looked friendly enough, albeit a little weary and annoyed, but that probably just came with the territory. When her eyes zeroed in on the payphone in the hallway directly across from her, her heartbeat spiked in her chest.

She just had to stay calm now. Calm enough, at least, until an opportunity to use that payphone presented itself. The problem was, with the way things stood now, Jordan wasn't going to let her get within ten feet of that payphone. There was no way he'd ever let her go to the bathroom alone, effectively putting her right in that hallway. She just hadn't been playing this game with him long enough for him to trust her that way yet. It was clearly going to take more than just sweet words, a peck on the cheek, and some good acting.

When the waitress took their food away, Isabelle knew she needed to act fast.

"Do you think we could just stay here tonight?" When she saw the look of alarm spread across his face, she jumped into damage control mode. "You have no idea what it was like in that place, Matt."

His eyes seemed to glaze over at her use of his first name and she knew she had to take that for the small victory it was.

"They didn't let me sleep, they didn't let me eat, they didn't even let me go to the bathroom," she went on quietly. "I'm just so...exhausted; I'm just so tired and I don't know how much longer I'd be able to make it the car anyways."

She paused for a moment, for both added dramatic effect and to see if he was buying it. When he just stared back at her intently, she really had no other choice than to press onward.

"And then we'll be able to spend some time together, right?"

She couldn't believe she'd been able to say it without her voice shaking or cracking at the first sign of pressure. There was nothing true about anything she'd just said and she didn't want to spend even a nanosecond contemplating what time alone with him would really mean. Just the very thought of being alone with him in a motel room...where no one could see them...where no one could stop him...sent a wave of fresh tears threatening to topple down her cheeks. But she just had to push it down and keep up the facade for as long as humanly possible.

And when his eyes glazed over with something between lust and greed, she couldn't stop the faint shiver that slide down her spine. That was the only reaction she could allow herself because there was too much risk in giving even the slightest indication that she wasn't as forthcoming as he thought she was.

Luckily enough, Jordan seemed to buy into the act enough to at least adhere to her request. She had a sinking feeling that the anticipation of time alone with her was just too strong for him to pass up the opportunity and he was all too eager to open the motel door for her to let her inside the dim, musty room.

"I know it's not exactly a 5-star hotel, but then again, you're not really used to the 5-star treatment anyways, right?" He laughed lightly at his own joke, but she didn't exactly see anything funny about this.

Her eyes quickly scanned the room and found it be exactly what one would expect from a motel: two queen beds with a nightstand and a lamp...and an ancient-looking phone with curly cords falling down the side of the nightstand. It doesn't matter how old it is, she thought as her eyes widened, as long as it works.

Maybe if she could use it when Jordan was in the bathroom or the shower or maybe if she could-

All thoughts of freedom and escape vanished when Jordan leaned forward and promptly cut the cords with the knife that suddenly appeared in his hand. And now, all she could think of was the fact that he had a knife. She'd been very aware he had a gun, but the knowledge that he had not one but two dangerous weapons sent all her previous hope of flight spiraling right out the window. A gun was expected, but a knife? That was just...vicious and the kind of weapon someone used to inflict the most amount of pain possible.

"I'm sorry," Jordan was saying to her now as he gently pulled her down with him onto the bed. "It's not that I don't trust you...I just can't take the risk right now. You know I'll keep you safe...I'd never let anything happen to you and this is just all part of that. I'm just trying to keep you safe, baby."

Right, because cutting the cords to her only method of contact with the outside world was keeping her safe. Sure.

"I'm just so tired," she whispered back for lack of anything better to say.

"Shh," he murmured to her, running a hand through hair to draw her head down into his shoulder. "Let me take care of you, baby."

She nodded into his shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut as he gently lowered them down onto the bed. His hands were caressing her face now and when he brushed his lips against hers, she barely choked back the scream that threatened to erupt from her throat. Still, she couldn't stop herself from pulling back and trembling against his touch.

"It's okay," he murmured. "It's okay, baby. I know…I know you're not ready yet and that's okay. I can wait a little longer."

Her eyes flew open when she felt cold metal close around her left wrist as Jordan rose it in the air to finish handcuffing her to the post of the bed.

"I'm so sorry," he stroked her face as he whispered into her ear. "You know I just can't take the risk...I'm so sorry."

Even as his arms slid tenderly around her waist to pull her against him and as he whispered to get some rest, she knew there would be no rest for her tonight...or maybe even any night. She couldn't see a way to erase the feel of Jordan's hands on her, of his lips touching her, of his body so close to hers that it made her physically ill. It didn't matter what happened now and it didn't matter how long it took Jax and the rest of the club to find her. Now that she was attempting to manipulate the devil, there would be no happy ending to this story.

And as her eyes squeezed shut, she did her best to focus on the matter at hand. What she needed to do was figure out how to convince Jordan to take her back to that diner before they left in the morning. That was really her only chance left.

Because if she couldn't get to that payphone and allowed Jordan to put her back inside that car, she was as good as dead.

* * *

**A/N-Sorry this one took me way too long to get up, but a hectic week and a little bit of a plotting issue in the next chapter held me up. **

**It's kinda interesting that Isabelle has long wondered if she really has what it takes to be an old lady (especially since that's one of the 'reasons' Jax used to push her away) and here she is, showing she's got exactly everything she needs left and right in this chapter. For those of you who are worried about Isabelle's safety, figuring out how 'far' she allows Jordan to go was my main issue with the next chapter, but now I've got that all worked out. It's not gonna be pretty, but I think it also makes sense in terms of what she needs to do in order to survive (and I think it's also not quite as bad as assumptions you're all jumping to right now ;)**

**I also hope Jax's pity and mercy towards Salazar came across in this chapter too. For all the animosity between them, not to mention the fact that Isabelle wouldn't be in this situation right now if not for Salazar, Jax knows there's no punishment worse than what Salazar's already gotten. And in a weird way, they're actually going to end up bonding-if that's the right word?-in the next story because of the empathy Jax feels for him. **

**The next chapter will see what Isabelle needs to do in order to get back to that payphone and the ensuing fallout from it. So...please let me know what you thought of this since your feedback has always been amazing from day one of these stories. Any thoughts/comments/predictions/reactions are always really appreciated!**


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